


Boo Crew

by DELLGIRL



Series: Ghostbusters Answer the Call [1]
Category: Ghostbusters (2016)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-29
Updated: 2020-04-24
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:41:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 61
Words: 284,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23819401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DELLGIRL/pseuds/DELLGIRL
Summary: Hi all!This is my first piece of Ghostbusters Answer the Call fanfiction. I'm making it available here, as well as on Wattpad.(Changed the rating to 'explicit' from 'mature', due to the use of language and the sex scenes)
Relationships: Erin Gilbert & Jillian Holtzmann & Patty Tolan & Abby Yates, Erin Gilbert/Jillian Holtzmann, Rebecca Gorin/Jillian Holtzmann
Series: Ghostbusters Answer the Call [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1716391
Kudos: 5





	1. Author's Notes

**Author's Note:**

> Taken from Wattpad:
> 
> This is my first piece of fanfic and I've chosen to write it about my OTP Holtzbert. I adore Ghostbusters Answer the Call and Erin and Holtzmann are just so darn cute together.
> 
> I feel particularly drawn to Holtzmann as she is eccentric, seems a bit child-like at times; full of energy and eager to not only please, but to get into all sorts of trouble and loves to make things and a mess! I, myself, am eccentric and can be child-like and full of energy and I love to make things and make a mess as well, so there are some character traits which reflects me as a person. 
> 
> This story is suitable for readers aged 18+ due to the mature content such as language, sexually explicit scenes and some content which may be triggering, such as depression and thoughts of suicide - I have provided a Trigger Warning at the start of the story, and at the start of the chapter(s) where I deem it necessary; reader discretion is advised. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy reading this and I welcome any form of feedback, including constructive criticism. 
> 
> Thank you :)  
> \- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -  
> NB: I can't change the chapters for Author's Notes and Prologue, so I apologise that it reads as:
> 
> Chapter 5: Chapter 4
> 
> I tried to delete the number, and then it reads:
> 
> Chapter : Author's Notes
> 
> So, that is something I will have to figure out. Sorry, all!
> 
> The date of "29 November 2018" is when this work was born; I have been continuously been writing (well, off and on) since then. But I didn't want to put today's date, as this is my first fanfic.

**WARNING:- Some parts of the story contains sensitive information which some readers may find triggering, or a reminder; please forgive me for any discomfort caused when reading this and if you so wish, you may skip those parts.**

_In this story, the reader is playing the part of Holtzmann. You become Holtzmann; Holtzmann is you. I wanted my story to be as inclusive as possible, detailing ownership, involvement and personality, whilst creating an immersive atmosphere. By drawing the reader in as Holtzmann, I have eliminated the need of a fifth Ghostbuster, (like in ‘Ghostbusters: The Videogame’) to avoid over-complicating things._

_I’ve added the prologue from the end of ‘Ghostbusters Answer the Call’, to give the reader some clarity, and background information into the characters and to set the scene in chapter 1. (The prologue, therefore, will be set in 2016, and the rest of my story will be set mostly in current times, 2018-present, to keep it up to date and concurrent with the present day.)_

_Throughout the story, you will frequently see three spaced out asterisks, like so: * * * which means “sometime later without an exact amount of time lapse” (as opposed to say, “five minutes later”.)_

_Any places, names, brands, locations, etc. are used fictitiously to give a bit of detail. Some dialogue, either verbatim, or precis have either been taken from the script, or created from information provided in ‘Ghosts from Our Past: Both Literally and Figuratively: A Study of the Paranormal.’ This is to create a sense of realism and to ensure my information and scientific explanations are truthful and not completely fantasised. (It also means that the authors Erin Gilbert and Abby L. Yates, with Andrew Shaffer, are credited and they won’t pull my ass for plagiarism!)_

_I have also gained a lot of information from the Ghostbusters Wiki page (which is probably just as accurate as Wiki, but it contains links and sources to the IDW Comics/Crossover Comics, and as such, you may recognise parts from IDW; this is done intentionally to add a bit more depth to the story._

_Second to this, I have ‘Tobin’s Spirit Guide’ which has helped with the description of any ghosts, and spectres (especially if I have created almost a cross-over with some characters from the 1984 film ‘Ghostbusters’) and ‘Ghostbusters Ectomobile Owner’s Workshop Manual’, which has helped to provide accurate detail of the 1983 Cadillac S &S Fleetwood Custom Funeral coach. (Did you know it started out as a 1983 S&S Fleetwood, but over the years it was modified with replacement parts from a 1984 Eureka and a 1989 Brougham?)_

_It is to be noted that whilst extensive research has been done (especially into the specific types of Cadillac, and anything science-y), I don’t know everything, and I have made up some things to keep this fictionalised; for example, I don’t know what is sold in Duty Free (other than alcohol) so whatever is included may or may not exist in real life. I should also stress that any research regarding medication is based on what Google has provided me as I’m not on any medication myself, so as such, I cannot give a first-hand account._

_I started to write this with Americanised terminology, to make it more succinct with worldwide audiences, but alas, I cannot Americanise myself fully, as I am Welsh, and so there are a number of British-English phrases and words throughout (I apologise if I cause confusion to anyone who may read this, especially if you are not, in fact, British yourselves; Google should help here.) However, it means you can learn more about our culture, and language, as I learn more about America’s. I don’t know a lot about NYC, for example, but I do have a few American friends to answer any culture/lifestyle related questions re America._


	2. Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is from the end of the 2016 all-female (plus Kevin) Ghostbusters reboot, Ghostbusters Answer the Call. It's used to set the scene :)

Patty comes down the stairs and peers over the railing. She calls down to Holtzmann and the girls. “Hey, y'all need to come check this out. Come up to the roof.”

She then disappears and they follow her upstairs and out on to the roof. The buildings opposite are lit up, some displaying love hearts, others saying I Love GB; NY Loves Ghostbusters or just the letters GB, created by the lights in the office and apartment blocks.

“Is that for us?” Erin asks.

Patty nods, “I guess some people actually do know what we did.” She replies, taking in the multi-coloured lights opposite; some from neon lights.

Abby sighs and speaks softly. “Well, that's not terrible.”

Erin agrees. “No, it’s not. It’s not terrible at all.” she looks at Abby and smiles. Chuckling, Patty puts an arm around Erin’s shoulder and gives her a squeezing hug. Holtzmann, who has remained quiet, looks at Abby and grins before putting an arm around Abby’s shoulder, who grabs her hand in response. As she does so, Erin puts her free arm behind Abby, to grab Holtzmann’s resting arm and the four of them hold each other as they acknowledge the fans and messages of lights.


	3. Chapter 1

Abby gives you and Erin a squeeze from behind and squashes your faces together, with hers in the middle. She begins walking towards the door, with Patty in tow. Without looking behind you, you alert them that you intend to stay and be alone for a while, and Erin seizes this opportunity to stay with you. Abby sighs and leaves with Patty, who stops to take one last look at the thank you notes. Erin sidles up to you and places her hands on the wall in front. She lets out a soft sigh and waits until the retreating footsteps and conversation has disappeared before speaking.

“So I guess we saved the world huh?”

“Yeah, I guess we did.” you respond, still absorbing the lights. “Nice to see people know what we did.” you sigh and finally turn to Erin, leaning back into the wall, and propping your elbows up on the top one by one. “How long do you reckon it will take before the press goes crazy for this?”

Erin looks at you and shrugs. “Probably any minute now, as soon as they see these lights, they’ll come running.”

“Let them swarm. They’re nothin’ compared to those Class V vapours. We kicked ass!”

“Hmmm, I saw you working your new toys out there.” Erin replies, smirking at you.

“Yah, well I nearly forgot about my new toys and that woulda been a waste, considering I spent many hours trying to make them.”

Erin chuckles softly. “It’s kind of hard to think straight when ghosts are running towards you. I mean, I jumped into a portal after Abby, for God’s sake.”

You laugh at her; a hearty laugh, and shake your head. “Oh, my God. I still can’t believe that you believed it was the year 2040 and our president was a plant. It was funny!”

You watch her as she sighs exasperatedly and turns, once more, so her back is to the lights. When she speaks, there is an air of frustration, but that she knows you are teasing. “That was not funny! My hair was grey in a matter of seconds and I’m still not used to this Ronald McDonald hair yet.” She sighs loudly and looks up at the sky.

You sniff and click your tongue. “That, Erin, will be due to the reversal of the polarity and actually, your hair was white, not grey. Personally, I loved how the complete Protonic reversal made your hair white, but kept your skin young and supple; it’s interesting how that worked and I must conduct a series of tests to ascertain why that happened…” you trail off as Erin raises an eyebrow at you. “You shouldn’t have chosen Garfield for your new colour. Didn’t you say it was from the Dead Presidents collection? I mean, who does that?”

“I happen to like Garfield, thank you very much. I am a cat person don’tcha know?”

“Again, you said it was the President and not the cat. I beg to differ on the accuracy of that box, but good to know that you like cats.”

You and Erin exchange looks and she laughs at her inability to choose the right colour of hair dye. Continuing, she asks: “How about you, Holtzmann. Do you like furry companions?”

You thrust out your bottom lip, before cocking your head to one side, clicking your tongue and sucking air over your teeth. You spin around to face the offices and she follows your rotation. You put an arm around her waist. “I have no companions; yet.”

Erin blushes and puts her arm around your waist, pulling your hips close together. “Well, you know, companionship is very healthy for, um, humans. Also, a cat is an angel which poops in a box.” This results in you furrowing your brow at her and releasing her from your grip, which in turn separates you about an inch or two. She on the other hand, refuses to let you go and pulls you in closely again. Now it’s your turn to blush.

“Yeah, but remember my toast? It went something along the lines of: ‘Physics is the study of space, and unlocks the mysteries of the Universe, but it cannot tell us our purpose here. Our purpose is to love and that’s what you’ve shown me. We’re like a family and I love you.’ I just blurted that shit out. I don’t think it really made any sense.” You clear your throat just as loudly as you did at the table a couple of days ago, to signify your disgust at being so soppy. Erin smiles at you as she walks towards a disused chair a little way off on the roof.

“Well, what I got from that is that we’re a family and we love each other. That’s a given and I love you Holtzmann – as, uh, as a friend.” she chuckles nervously and sits down carefully in case the chair is broken.

Just as her butt touches the chair, you pull her up and into a hug. “Well, say, yeah, that’s right. I love you too, as a friend.” You squeeze her tightly then pull away, giving her a cheeky wink and a sexy smile, like you did when she told you about being called Ghost Girl.

Erin gives you a kiss on the cheek and then stops, wide eyed. “I’m sorry, I, uh, I didn’t mean to do that.”

You blush for a second time and blink with widening eyes. “Well, sure ya didn’t, but we’re buddies, and that’s what they do. Come on, before Abby and Patty start missing us.”

Erin nods, but continues to look embarrassed. “And it is kind of chilly out here. Abby probably has some of her wonton soup ready for us too.” She giggles and walks towards the door. You give her arm a reassuring squeeze and walk by her side.

“I’ll take a baloney sandwich from Patty over Abby’s dishwater!”

Erin laughs and you join in. “To be honest, Holtzmann, I don’t blame you on that one, unless she got all the wonton instead of soup. That guy never gets it right and all she ever wanted was a reasonable ratio of wontons to broth.”

You hold your hand out as an after you gesture and Erin steps inside, she shivers as you notice the change in temperature. Squeezing the bar on the door, you pull it to, and it shuts with a loud clang. Erin’s heels click on the iron steps and it echoes on the walls of the stairwell. Coughing, you reply to Erin’s soup comment.

“Yeah, that guy – Bennie. We worked away from him and he took over an hour to deliver. We moved above him, he still took more than an hour to get up one flight of stairs; claiming he had ‘really bad knees’. And then we blew up his motorbike… well, Abby did with my Proton glove, and he still takes more than an hour to get to us; how is that even possible? What a dick! Urm, don’t tell Bennie I said that. Take the stairs all the way down… down, down, the burning ring of fire; the ring of fire, the ring of fire. No? No singing?”

“First you dance and now you’re singing. Again. Is this some sort of mating ritual for mad scientists?”

“When was I dancing?”

“Oh, you know. When we first moved to the lab, above the Chinese place and you were flailing about with the torches and set something on fire? Although, that was the time you were lip-synching.”

You chuckle as you remember the incident with the blowtorches. “I love that song. Even if I thought it was by Devo and not DeBarge.”

Both stopping outside the door, you hug again before pushing it open. It creaks in protest and you hold your hand out to usher her inside. You step inside to bright light and blink a couple of times, the harsh light a contrast to the dark navy sky outside. Abby is at the computer and Patty is listening to a tape recording. You and Erin wander over to a table amassed with gadgets, tools, wires and a large metal contraption. “Trust me,” she says “I have nothing to say to the guy. The first time I met him, he tried to hit on me. Um, no thanks.”

“Oh there you are I was beginning to think you had been eaten by a monster.” Abby says looking up briefly before returning to her work. When Abby speaks again, she does not look up, but clacks away at the keyboard. “And I believe you were hitting on him first, Erin.”

“You asked him to show me the door and he failed miserably. After our conversation, I ran into him a little while later and he asked me to dinner.”

“When did he ask you to – oh, you’re not talking about Kevin…” she chuckles “…you’re talking about Bennie. Oh, well carry on, I’ll shut up again.”

You look between Erin and Abby, trying to work out Abby’s connection and shake your head. You take your bottle-cap glasses off, laying them to one side and put on your large safety goggles, which are similar to ski goggles, before grabbing your green latex gloves. “You were all over Kevin when you first met him, Erin. You got all sweaty just by looking at him.”

“Have you not seen that beautiful specimen? I mean, I could climb that like a tree.” she quips.

You shake your head and clip two booster cables to a battery, before rubbing two small metal rods together, which creates a spark. “And you would, let’s be real. But, he won’t be keeping you warm at night, or be giving you a Swiss Army knife.” Erin cocks her head at you and mouths thank you just as there’s a knock on the door downstairs.

“Yo, we got pizza. I hope you ladies are hungry.” Patty calls as she wanders down the stairs towards the door of the large Firehouse. She opens it, takes the boxes, thanks the guy and hands the delivery guy a $20 note, nodding her head. The guy smiles, turns on his heel and disappears the way he came. She shuts the small door, which is built inside the larger Firehouse door and passes the inappropriately named ‘Stripper Pole’, before walking back upstairs to the second floor.

Patty returns carrying the pizza boxes and delicately places them on the table. Still creating sparks, you leave the others to sit down, until Erin calls you over.  
“Holtzy, dude, come and eat. You haven’t eaten since this morning, and as Patty says, low blood sugar is serious.”

The metal rods spark and crackle and you stare at them, mesmerised by the light, which refracts off your yellow goggles and both attached magnifying glasses, illuminating your face. You grin madly, before turning off the battery and removing the small booster cables. Taking your gloves off, you dump them on the table before making sure nothing can catch fire whilst unattended.

You wander over to the table, placing your goggles on your forehead. As you go to sit down, the phone rings. “Eurgh, what now?!” you ask the table. Kevin isn’t around to pick it up as he left for another Hide-and-Seek Tournament. You wander over to the phone, ringing at his desk and pick it up.

“Ghostbusters.” You utter cheerily. “Please give a detailed – woah, woah, slow down, hold your ponies … Uh huh, yeah, that’s a Class IV non-corporeal malevolent … Uh huh, right, and it’s doing what now? ... Oh, I see, yeah, no, that’s not good ... And you’ve done what? Yeah, I’d put that at a T3 ... Okay, yeah you need to evacuate your home immediately … Yeah, we’ll be there … Yes, we’re women, yes we’re scientists – we know what we’re doing. We just saved … Right, right, but there is no one else who can do this job, sir …” Your voice becomes sharp and rises in pitch. “Do you want our help, or not? … Well, if you’d rather wait for a male team of investigators, in say, ooh, thirty years, then be my guest … No, I will not …” You grimace and suck air through your clenched teeth. “I am calm; I think you’ll find you’re raising your voice at me … Well, the more time we spend on the phone, the more likely that Class IV is going to continue terrorising you and your family, sir ... Yeah, let me write that down …” You shake your head at the ladies, who have gathered around the phone. Erin has a slice of pizza for you. Abby grabs a pen and paper and you relay the address to her. “2410 New Grove Street. Okay, we’ll be there. Thank you for calling the Ghostbusters.” You hang up, mutter something incoherent under your breath and let out a long and loud sigh.

The room is silent and everyone stares at you, awaiting the news. “Fuck me.” You say, breaking the awkward silence between you all. “That was brutal. He reckons we can’t do it cos we’re women. ‘You bitches ain’t gonna help, we need real men’ is what he said. Urgh, I hate misogynistic bastards, still with the ‘bitches’ shit.” You sigh loudly again and Erin puts a hand on your shoulder.

“Take this and eat, Holtz. We’ll get the Packs. Try and calm down, before we arrive, so you don’t choke him.”

You take a deep breath as Abby wanders back over to the table and Patty leans on the doorframe. You change the subject, whilst hungrily stuffing the pizza into your mouth. “Hey Abby…” you say, muffled from the now-cold dough in your mouth. “I think this is the second time you’ve eaten pizza. The first time was when Erin here was telling us about how you two met.” You swallow and take another bite, before proceeding. “You need less soup and more substantial foods! The more you eat from a balanced diet, the better your body, brain and physicality will be. Also, sleep helps, but I make myself sleep no more than 14 minutes a day, so I can work hard for you guys, making sure all my toys are up to date, working and functional. I also love studying Physics, Quantum Mechanics and Technology.”

Abby takes another slice and calls from the table. “Well, yeah, I’ve just stopped thinking about soup. I’m telling ya, Holtzy, that experiment you did on me was sketchy!”

A bit of pizza hangs from your mouth as you shake your head with wide eyes. Not wanting to let Erin and Patty in on your secret, you pretend you have no idea what Abby is referring to. “What experiment, Abby?” you ask, trying to sound nonchalant, but looking sheepish all the same.

“The one where you did some hypnosis and made me obsess about soup. The same week you were almost hired by CERN.”

“CERN? That’s impressive. But, uh, what happened?” Erin asks reluctantly.  
You shrug your shoulders, and briefly tell Erin and Patty what happened. “There was a lab incident with a student.”

“Coma.” Abby mouths.

Abby raises an eyebrow and Erin looks quizzical. “But he's gonna wake up soon, right?” Erin asks still holding her half-eaten slice of pizza.

“Oh, he woke up yesterday; yeah I had a message from his Aunt. I was his mentor.”

“Well, that’s great news. Holtzmann the mentor."

“Yeah, but then he screamed and went back into a coma.”

Abby chuckles and elbows you in the ribs. “Well, I bet all that screaming tuckered him out.”

“Uh, guys?” Patty asks, snapping you back to reality. “Haven’t we got a Class IV malevolent to deal with?”

“Oh shoot, yeah we do.” Erin says, dashing off to get her Pack.

“I mean we could just leave him...” you begin.

Patty shoots you a look as she buttons up her overalls. She slings her Pack over her shoulders and clips it at the waist.

“A’riiiight” you moan, rolling your eyes in the process. She shakes her head and mutters something about you being a meanie. Erin finally finishes her pizza and wipes her hands on a napkin before placing a hand on your shoulder.

“If it weren’t for you, we wouldn’t have been able to kill those ghosts and save the City, so for the lack of sleep and the effort you put in for us, I wanna say thank you, Holtzy.”

“Yeah man, thank you.” Patty replies, slapping you heartily on the back. Abby nods and clips her Pack’s buckle together.

You make an _ehhh_ noise before putting your arms, with hands drawn into fists, above your head, bringing your left leg up in the process. “Well, someone has to be the crazy tech genius.” You laugh from the back of your throat before adding: “Although I must stipulate that we cannot kill what is already dead, Erin, we merely caught the ghosts with our Proton Streams, dragging them down into our teeny tiny traps… tiny in comparison to them… to return them to a controlled environment.” You wink at her for the second time and the four of you dash out the door, Abby locking it behind her.


	4. Chapter 2

The siren wails as you skid into New Grove Street. It took longer than anticipated due to the lunch time rush and Erin’s bad map reading skills. You had to pull over twice to let Abby take over map duty. Slowing down, you shush everyone and tell them to read the numbers. “We’re looking for Twenty-Four-Ten. That or a Class IV malevolent floatin’ around. Anybody see either?”

You see Abby shake her head out of the corner of your eye and Erin mumbles under her breath. “Uh, guys, is that what we’re lookin’ for? Holtzy?” Patty asks pointing out of the window.

“I’m driving Patty, if you’re pointing, I don’t know where. Try saying Port or Starboard.”

“That’s ship directions, Holtzy.” Abby says. “Where is it Patty?”

“Uh, left side, by a large oak tree. Oh shit, it just went up the street. Oh man, that doesn’t look good.”

You slam on the breaks and everyone shoots forward. “Damn it, Holtzmann. You trying to kill us a second time?” Abby asks grabbing the dashboard. You chuckle and shrug, before throwing off your seatbelt (which you installed, along with airbags) and wrenching open the door, you get out and give it a hefty slam.

Patty carefully exits and talks to you over the bonnet of the car. “Uh, Holtzy, be careful with this car. My Uncle was pissed when we lost the first one, he had to put in some extra paperwork and apply for more funding for a new car. He said we couldn’t stack ‘em like flapjacks, so he applied for another hearse and they sent him two instead, they told us to keep this one, as it was salvaged from the junkyard! He gave us this one, telling us to do what we gotta do, cos he saw all the reports on the news and said that our stuff looked too heavy to lug around the streets of New York, not mentioning the looks we’d get in the subway. You’ve done a real nice job on this one, baby, made her real pretty, just like the first. Shiny too.”

“Yah, Ecto-1A is the biz! This baby is twice the size of Ecto-1. How did you manage that?”

Erin and Abby get out of the car and walk to the back of the car. Patty shrugs before joining them. “Beats me, I thought hearses were the same size.” she says, before opening the boot door.

You pull out the gurney as you speak. “Well, as a 1983 Cadillac Fleetwood Station Wagon with a Eureka Hearse body, I can assure you, that this baby is sweet. The first one was sweet too, but I’ve improved this one to create a whole new Ectomobile; you should see her engine. Ooh, wee! It’s a 5-litre V8 with a four-speed manual gearbox. I’ve adjusted the police lights on the top, so they have a larger rotational axis, made the siren a few decibels louder, revamped the Nuclear Reactors on top to give a smoother output and I’ve attached a large-scale Ghost Trap on top of it; A.K.A Super Slammer Muon Trap, which should help us during a fight, so we can slam-dunk any ghosts that are lingering above us, straight into the box. It works the same way as our body traps, except for this little device.” You hold out a device, which looks similar to an electronic key fob. “You just extend the antenna here and point it at the roof. Uh, this is still an early development, so don’t judge my 80s style remote. I need to work on it to make it infrared, but so far, it works and the trap opens and closes. Well, it worked yesterday; I’ve yet to actually test it on some ghosts.”

“Uh, that’s nice Holtzy, really is, but how about we take down this ghost, for the guy you spoke to?” Erin asks, sounding impressed, but also trying to hurry you along.

“Oh, God, I almost forgot. I’ve modified our Packs too; Mark III. We now have a Dark Matter generator, also known as a Shock Blaster. This collects Dark Matter particles, which is invisible to the naked eye, unless in large globules, but can be picked up by our newly improved PKE meters; this has a more accurate readout display, showing temperature changes and auditory shifts, as experienced back at Aldridge Manor, but it also records the presence of Dark Matter, or Black Slime. I don’t have substantial proof of this, but if the existence of the portal created by Rowan is anything to go by, then there’s a possibility of it generating enough negative power to create a portal between our world and the Ghostworld. I’ve yet to actually do some experiments to back that theory up, but I’d like to see if Black Slime actually creates a portal, or whether Rowan’s was created by some other form of negatively charged ions. I need to get a sample of it and take it back to the lab to experiment and discover if a portal can and will be created from where a large quantity of black ectoplasm has amassed.” You stop to take a deep breath, ignoring the looks from the other three.

“Uh, Holtzy, where exactly are you going to create a portal and how?” Abby asks, pointing towards the spectre, which has reappeared halfway down the street.

You clear your now-dry throat and sling your Proton Pack over your shoulders, the last to do so. You shut the boot and lock the car before heading down the street looking for the gentleman’s house. “I’ve yet to figure that out. I’ll need to do it in a controlled environment, perhaps in the Containment Unit, so as to not cause too much damage to the outside world.”

Erin grabs her gun from the holster and it beeps into life. “So how does the new weapon work?”

“The Shock Blaster captures Dark Matter particles and projects them through the Proton Gun, like shotgun blasts. Deadly for all types of ghosts at close-range, but its power and effectiveness diminishes over a large area; similar to an actual shotgun.”

“We got a ghoul to catch.” Patty says.

“And we’re an hour behind schedule.” Abby adds.

“Schedule? What schedule? Since when were we on a schedule? We’re never on a – oh, never mind.” You say as you quicken your pace.

Erin gasps as the ghoul sees you and roars loudly. “Jesus, that is malevolent. Oh, 2410, here it is. Do we knock?”

“No, don’t knock. Capture the ghoul and then knock.” Abby says pointing her Proton Gun at the female ghost.

You all aim your Proton Guns at the ghoul and blast it, zapping it with surges of electricity in an attempt to weaken it.

“Come on, you heathen!” Patty yells. “Get back here.” The spectre pulls at the Proton Streams, which have wrapped around it.

“ERIN! Don’t cross the streams!” you bellow, over the roar of the ghost; staring at her in panic.

“What?”

“Don’t let your beam get entangled with my beam!” you shout, a little quieter than before.

“What? Why?”

“It's too much power. It would cause a counter reaction. The beam would shoot back into your body and each atom _will_ implode.” you say, swinging your beam away from hers, which is dangerously close.

“Implode, you’re kidding right?”

You flick your wrist to wobble the stream, grunting in the process. “Well, no, I’m not. The only way we would actually be able to cross the streams with little to no damage is when we were closing Rowan’s portal.” You growl and grunt loudly. “It would have been strong enough to create a reverse reaction. That was before Patty suggested hitting the Nuclear Reactor on top of the Ecto.”

“Little to no damage doesn’t seem plausible, when a second ago you said we’d implode.” Erin says grunting with the effort of the surprisingly strong ghost.

“No, implode is the wrong word. It'll be more violent than that. To be able to reverse the polarity of Rowan’s portal, or any portal of that size to be exact, we would’ve needed to cross our streams, and we would’ve got an extremely good shot at pulling all the ionised ecto-matter back into the dimension of its origin.

Patty sighs and fires her Proton Gun at the ghost’s face, who roars in response. “So, on the plus side, that woulda saved the world, right?”

“Yah, definitely.” You say, also directly your blast into the ghost’s face.

“And the negative side?” Abby and Erin ask simultaneously.

“And on the negative side, we would’ve experienced the most painful death conceivable of all time.”

“Well, shit.” Abby says, yanking her gun downwards.

“Yeah. It's hard to shine that penny, but yeah. Sorry.” You say before swearing under your breath at this ghost.

After what seems like a long time of straining, grunting, groaning, roaring and sweating, you flick a small switch on the top of your gun box and a low humming noise emanates from the gun. The girls look at you and you take three steps forward so you’re close to the ghost. “Hold her nice and tight, I have a present for her.” You squeeze the trigger and a loud pop emerges from the gun, the sound ricocheting off the buildings, at the same time, you’re launched back a foot. You step forward to regain balance. The shock blast finds its target in a matter of seconds and the spectre explodes, sending a shockwave through the street, which knocks you all to the floor and shakes the trees. As soon as the spectre explodes, she vaporises and soaks you all in Slime.

“Uh, Holtzmann, what the hell was that?” Abby asks wiping Slime from her glasses and picking herself up off the floor.

You pick yourself up off the floor and holster your gun, before proceeding to wipe your bottle-cap goggles. “HUH! HAH! YOU JUST GOT HOLTZMANNED, BABY!” you yell at the ghost-free street.

Erin raises an eyebrow and jams you moderately hard in the ribs. “Ow, what?” you snap. She gives you a “ _don’t you snap at me”_ look and you apologise. “That was the Shock Blaster. Obviously it needs some more work.”

“That sounded like a cannon.” Erin exaggerates.

“No, more like a _shotgun._ ” You retort, sarcastically. “Well, the ghost has gone, and the new weapon works. However, I will stress that the kick-back is more powerful than the standard setting on the Neutrona Wands, so you’ll want to make sure you have a wider stance, with your knees bent. Also, um, there’s no plasma shield, like in the accelerator, therefore the beam accuracy is lower and the RF frequencies are higher. I’ve yet to match the Shock Blaster accuracy and RF attenuation with the Proton beam.”

“Well, how in the hell are we supposed to use them?” Patty replies, exasperatedly.

“To access them, you need to flick the toggle switch on the top of the gun…” you point at the small silver toggle switch on the top. “Flick it _downwards_ and it’ll change settings. Flicking it back up again will revert back to your standard Proton Stream.” 

“Neutro-whaddy-what?” asks Erin, she furrows her brow and holsters her gun.

You click your tongue before explaining. “Neutrona Wands or Proton Gun … means this puppy,” you say, lifting your gun out in front of you. “The main part of our Proton Packs.”

The other three exchange glances and reply with an “Ohhhh” in unison. You raise your eyebrows and nod your head before the four of you, now cold, as well as wet from the Slime, head back towards Ecto-1A.

“Erm, shouldn’t we let that guy know his ghost has gone?” Patty asks surprised at how quiet the street is.

Abby stops and whirls around. “Good idea, Patty. We should do that.” The four of you march over to the door and ring the bell.

You bite your tongue silently to avoid ripping into the guy who shouted at you for being female Ghostbusters, and instead you smile politely through your brief encounter.

Walking back towards the car, you thrust your hands deep into your pockets and hunch your shoulders forward. Erin takes larger strides to match your pace and slips an arm between yours and the side of your body. “That was amazing what you did back there, you know that, right? Thank you for updating all the equipment, Jill, and thanks for the new stuff too.”

You turn to her and do a double-take. “I’ve not been called Jill in years” you say quietly. “My grandma used to call me that when I was a child and I, uh, I…” you sniff as tears begin to form in your eyes. “I miss her. A lot actually.” Erin squeezes your arm, but does not press the matter further. You reach the car and unlock it. Abby opens the back and takes her Pack off; Patty does the same. You saunter to the back and swing your Proton Pack off your shoulders and onto the gurney, with a _clang_ before biting your lower lip at Erin, who pretends not to have noticed. She inhales deeply and sighs lustfully before clambering into the front passenger’s seat. You slam the boot shut and climb into the driver’s seat. Pulling your door closed, you wriggle in your seat to get comfortable and in the right driving position, before putting on your belt and turning on the ignition.

The engine splutters into life and you check to see if everyone is wearing their seatbelts before thrusting the car into reverse and barrelling down the street. You smoothly swing round, action-movie style and shove the car into the correct gear before flicking the siren on and heading back to the laboratory. At a stop light, you belch loudly and Erin backhands your arm, before chuckling. You roll your eyes, turn on the stereo and whoop at ‘ _Carry on My Wayward Son’_ playing through the speakers. Adjusting the volume, you roll down your window and gas it at the green light. “CARRY ON MY WAYWARD SON, THERE’LL BE PEACE WHEN YOU ARE DONE!” you shout to the passers-by who give you weird looks.


	5. Chapter 3

**_Two days after Thanksgiving._ **

“So Erin, what have you been up to for Thanksgiving?” you ask before taking a drink of your lukewarm coffee. You pull a disgusted face and mumble to yourself.

“Just spent some time with family yesterday and then went Black Friday shopping. I’ve rested today, but I’m still exhausted from it. My Mom drives a hard bargain when it comes to Christmas bargains!” Erin replies looking up from her book she has been buried in for the last hour.

You pick up your mug and wander over to the microwave in the small kitchen adjacent. “Ah, nice” you say as you put your coffee mug in and set the timer. “I experimented again. For the third year running.” You turn around and lean back on the counter looking at Erin’s still-bright red hair.

Erin puts down her book and notices you staring, so she tries to cover it with her hands. “No time spent with the family?”

The microwave beeps breaking the silence. You open the door and grab the mug handle, before instantly regretting it. “Shit, too hot!” you cry. Wincing you grab a tea towel before placing it on the worktop. “Nah, I haven’t seen my Mom and Dad since I was, like, 21.”

Erin grimaces at you and narrows her eyes in shared pain of the coffee mug being too hot. “I’m sorry to hear that. Is there a reason for it?”

You shake your head and leave your coffee to cool. Wandering over to join her at the table you notice, for the first time since after the whole Rowan debacle, how quiet the lab is. You arrive at the table and, grabbing a chair, swing it around so that the back is facing the front and you sit in a straddle before leaning over the back. “In all honesty, Eri, I’m a bit of a black sheep. Always have been and I’m fine with that. I’m a…” you draw your fingers into air quotes “…‘bit’ estranged.”

She looks at you and takes in the boyish way you’re sitting and laughs. “A _bit_? I can relate though. My parents weren’t always fond of me chasing ghosts with Abby back in High School.”

Now it’s your turn to laugh. You change position and rest your head on your arms, which are placed atop the backrest. “You were Ghost Girl and I was called Ghost Tits in Middle School. I was a late developer, but for what I lacked in chest size, I made up for in brain size. I was very competitive and had a fantastic GPA and was even Class President.” Erin raises an eyebrow and listens intently. You choose not to pursue that and ask about her parents instead. “Do your parents still not believe you about seeing that old lady ghost?”

She shakes her head and shrugs her shoulders. “Tell me more about being the black sheep” she says, her eyes meeting yours for the first time in over an hour.

“Well, I er, I tried to build a large-scale Nuclear Reactor when I was 12. I did a lot of Physics and Chemistry experiments in the shed at the bottom of the garden.” Her eyes widen as you mention the Nuclear Reactor.

Blinking a couple of times to register what you have said, she presses the matter further. “A _Nuclear Reactor_? In a _shed_? How is any part of that safe?” She nearly chokes on her water.

“Did I mention that I was a rebel and that it was a tin shed and I had no qualms about doing anything dangerous or stupid? Plus, most days, I was unsupervised and left to my own devices. I was a stupid child, I admit that, but that stupidity has eventually paid off.”

She smiles at you and reminds you about your coffee. When you return she is doodling absentmindedly on a notepad. “Well, glad everything worked out for you in the end and that you’re still here! If you ever wanna tell me about your tin shed experiments, then I’m always here for you.”

“Not really something I like to discuss. I don’t even know why I brought it up, but thanks for the sentiments! That’s not the only reason why I’m the outcast.” You chuckle and slurp your cooler coffee.

“Oh, there’s more?” Erin asks, cocking her head to one side. You spin your chair back around the normal way, to face Erin properly, on account of your hands having pins and needles.

You shrug and drink some more, contemplating how to approach the question. You inhale deeply and exhale sharply before proceeding. “Yeah, I’m gay and that’s a whole other thing with my parents and why I’ve not seen them for over ten years.” The room quickly falls into silence and you sit there, letting Erin mull over what you just said. “Eri, I’ve not even told Abby the experiments, so don’t mention it okay? I will, when the time is right.”

Erin smiles at you warmly and takes your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Your secret is safe with me, I promise. Altho-”

You cut her off. “I suspect Abby may know already, but we’ve never discussed it.” You say, bending the truth; you plan on telling her when the time is right. “Patty, I’m not sure, but Abby more than likely. I did kiss your hand and tell you that you smelled of coconut, when we first met. And I’ve danced for you. And I’ve sung for you. Twice. And, erm, you did squeeze my arm and pull our hips together, once before we went to The Mercado, the second time on the rooftop, although, Abby didn’t see that one. I also don’t shut up about you when you’re away from the lab.”

“I was going to say that, actually. If it brings you any comfort, Abby knows I’m bi and is totally chill about it!”

“Ahhhh, hence why you’ve been all over Kevin? Sweet, sweet Kevin. Um, would now be a good time to erm…” you play with your earlobe, tugging it slightly and rubbing your thumb along the back of it, before taking your bottle-cap glasses off and putting the arm in your mouth. You lick your lips and draw your knees up to your chest, hugging them like a child “…to, erm, tell you that I like you?” you finish after what seems like an eternity.

Having not heard your question, Erin begins gushing over Kevin. “Kevin is cute and all, but I don’t think I could ever date him. He’s too, um, how do I say this? Dumb. Like a box of rocks. I need someone intelligent in my life, who'll keep me on my toes, but knows how to have a good laugh and just knows when it’s the right time to be serious too.” She pauses, having registered what you asked and realising that, inadvertently, she is describing you. “And you like me? _Me?_ What is so fascinating about me?”

“You’re cute.” You blurt out before blushing and clearing your throat loudly, for the third time that day. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. Another World’s Smallest Bowtie, ma’am?” You ask, changing topic quickly. You finish your coffee and, leaving the mug on the table, get up to look out the window at the busy New York street below.

Erin blushes and looks down at the floor, before looking up at you from behind as you fog up the glass and draw a smiley face. “You’re the one who’s cute, Holtzy.” She saunters over to you and places a hand on your lower back. You turn around to face her and lock eyes. Now it’s her turn to bite her lip seductively. Sighing, you take one last glance outside, before leaning in to kiss her on the lips. When she doesn’t immediately pull away you take this as a good sign and smile into her mouth.

The sudden conversation of Patty and Abby startle you both and you quickly pull away. Erin dashes back to her book and you put one hand on the wall and the other in your pocket, still facing the outside, both trying to look as innocent as possibly, but evidently failing, due to what comes next.

“Well, I was gonna ask how y’alls Thanksgiving went and what were your plans for today, but I can see that Thanksgiving was good and I know what you’re up to.” Patty announces loudly. You swallow hard before whirling around so quickly that you lose your balance.

“Fuck!” you exclaim. You sit back down across the table to Erin and see Abby smirk at you, you go as red as Erin’s hair in response. “Yeah, Thanksgiving was alright, thanks, but I missed you guys. Especially this one.” You add pointing your thumb in Erin’s direction.

“Well, we saw that.” Abby replies, before bursting out laughing. Erin takes your hand across the table and strokes the back of it with her thumb. You look at her again and in that second, the world stops and you make one of the biggest decisions you’ve made in a while. “Sorry, I can’t sit here like this. Avert your eyes ladies.” You say, turning your head to look at Abby and Patty. You get up and round the table to face Erin. “Come here, you.” You say as you pull her to her feet. “I’ve been waiting a long fucking time for this!” you grab the front of Erin’s shirt and pull her closely; inches from you, where you kiss her for a second time, but with more passion than the first. Throwing caution to the wind, you slowly insert your tongue into her mouth and Erin lets out a slight whimper.

After a full two minutes of you and Erin snogging has gone by, Abby clears her throat, as you sit back down, on the seat next to Erin. “Hey, oh! I _knew_ it, Holtzy! I _knew_ you had a thing for Erin. Oh, my God, this makes me so proud. Patty, I’ll have that $10 now, thank you.”

“You, you _bet_ on us?! You snap, suddenly enraged. “Bet on us for what, exactly, Abby?” You push the chair out and it scrapes on the tiled floor. As you rise, Erin puts a hand on your shoulder and applies enough pressure to make you stop and sit back down.

“We made a bet to see if you two would kiss this week. I said you would, but Patty said it would be another few weeks before you couldn’t take the lust anymore.”

“Oh, well, when you put it like that…” you say, looking apologetic. “Sorry, by the way.”

Abby chuckles nervously. “It’s okay; I should’ve said something sooner.” They join you at the table. “So, what was it like? Magical?”

“Queer.” You say abruptly. Erin digs you in the ribs. “Well, we are, so it’s not going to feel like how it would feel for Abby or Patty.”

“Oh, so you’re saying you didn’t feel a connection or a ‘spark’ between us then, Holtzy?”

You furrow your brow, feeling attacked. “Oh, God, no, that’s not what I meant. Not at all. I just meant that kissing a woman feels, _better_ , I suppose. I have tried kissing guys in High School, but I was completely grossed out. It felt so, so, wrong. Kissing girls feels so right. _That_ felt so right. Like a helluva lot right.”

“Oh.” Erin says wistfully.

Patty and Abby exchange glances and Patty slaps a $10 bill into Abby’s open palm. “Well, I guess we know what you two are going to be up to now.” Throwing her head back she roars with laughter and you shake your head.

“Maybe, maybe not” you say playfully, before excusing yourself from the table and disappearing behind a mass of books, units, wires, bits and bobs and your disassembled Proton Pack. Placing your glasses on the desk, you put your round welding goggles down over your eyes and set about creating a second plasma shield for the gun to mirror the one in the accelerator box.

Patty disappears to buy a coffee machine, so you can all spend more time bustin’ ghosts than buying coffee from Starbucks and leaves the three of you to your own devices. Abby gets comfortable at her desk and researches the properties of Slime and Erin continues to read _Eat, Pray, Love._ You on the other hand, are lost in your desk and the sounds of clanging, grunting, sparking and swearing fills the void. Speaking to yourself and the equipment, you hammer away and try to put a less-than-cooperative piece of wire into a tiny hole in the Proton Gun. “Stupid… get in there… why won’t you… ah shit…” there is a crackle and a pop “Woah, that shouldn’t have happened… okay, Jillian, slowly…” there is a loud spark and surge of electricity causes you to drop your utensils on the floor with a _clatter_ and flap your hand about in agony. “Ow! Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Erin looks up sharply and calls to you. “You okay over there?” 

You suck your thumb and index finger which are the most seared and nod your head. “Yeah, fine, just a mild shock from this NiMH battery. We’re all good.”

“How mild is ‘mild’?” she asks, air quoting the word.

“Well, a standard NiMH battery is only 1.2 volts, so not enough to do serious damage. It’s not like you’re stood there, thumb on the red trigger button and I’ve walked into the Proton Stream. That would kill me instantly and I don’t fancy dying just yet.”

“Dare I ask how powerful these Packs are?” Erin asks as she approaches you.

You purse your lips tightly and grin in a graceless manner. “Well, um, the maximum power setting for the Proton Packs, which is only in reference to the rate of positron collisions occurring internally within the accelerator system, is, um, about…” you mutter under your breath and Erin asks you to speak up giving you a look. “500,000 MHz” you reply sheepishly.

Erin stares wide-eyed and even Abby wheels around to look at you.

“Five? Five hundred _thousand_?” Erin asks, raising the corner of her mouth to stare at you with disbelief.

“Yeah, but that’s all the internal power.”

“And the external?” Abby asks. You shrug.

“Pro’ly the same. I dunno, haven’t measured it. I don’t actually want to, in case it doesn’t go according to plan. You know what I’m like.” You say, sucking your fingertips again.

Erin shakes her head and reaches out a hand. “Let’s have a look, sweetie.” She says, suddenly giving you a pet name. You gingerly place your throbbing hand in her open palm and she examines your fingers. Without meeting your eyes, she begins tracing the life lines on your clammy palm and draws circles in the centre of it. This part tickles, but you don’t let on. Instead you feel the softness of her fingertips and close your eyes, taking in the feel of her skin against yours.

“Run them under a cold tap.” Abby cuts the silence and your blissful moment. You clear your throat and swallow. Pulling your goggles up, you pull away from Erin and wander off in the direction of the sink. Erin glares at Abby, but says nothing.

When you return, Abby is hastily typing and Erin is peering over her shoulder at the screen. As you open your mouth to speak, Patty throws open the door and announces her arrival. “Hey! I got us a coffee machine, and check this out, it comes with coffee pods, so we can make enough for one cup, instead of boiling a whole pot and letting it go to waste. She heads into the kitchen to set it up and Kevin walks through the door.

“Hey, so we, er, won the Hide-and-Seek Tournament. Look at this trophy!” he holds up an oversized trophy depicting a boy covering his eyes and standing on a platform and another boy hiding below him, on his hands and knees, with his head poking through a hole in the platform’s wall.

“Well, that certainly is … _different_.” You admit, having never seen one like that before.

“Kevin!” Erin exclaims, rushing over to him. “Oh, my God, you’re back. How did it go? Ooh, look at that big shiny trophy. Come here you.” She adds, before wrapping him up into a tight hug. Meanwhile, having observed all this from the kitchen, you rub the back of your neck and stare down at your black boots and your paint-splattered dungarees turned up at the bottom.

You turn the tap off and wander over to where you dumped your black leather jacket and sling it over your shoulders before thrusting your arms in the sleeves. Leaving it open, you wander over to where Erin is still embracing Kevin and prise the trophy from his hands before setting it on the counter. You pat his arm and quietly welcome him back in advance of stepping out into the corridor and down the stairs. Erin doesn’t notice, until you slam the Firehouse door.

She pulls away from Kevin and looks about her, confusion etched onto her face. “Where did Holtz go?” she asks as Kevin makes a dash for the table to avoid another overly-sexualised embrace.

“Uh, she gone, dude.” Patty says setting down the coffee machine manual.

Erin looks down at the floor and stares at the corridor wondering if she should go after you. Just as she turns to head back to her book, Abby and Patty stands in her way. “ _Look, we know how much Holtzy likes you Erin, and this display of affection for Kevin isn’t doing you, or her, any favours_.” Patty speaks softly so as to not let Kevin overhear.

Abby continues. “ _We know you like Kevin, but I think Holtzy has some serious feelings for you. I’ve never seen her walk out after a Kevin hug, but you need to think about what you want and don’t mess her around._ ”

“I, er…” Erin begins before sighing. “Yeah, you’re right. She admitted she liked me and then I go all gooey over Kevin. He is beautiful, but he’s just too dumb for me. I’m gonna go after her.” Abby pats her arm and Patty smiles enthusiastically, as if she already knew what Erin’s decision would be.


	6. Chapter 4

Erin leaves the laboratory and takes off running down the street after you. The air is cold and there is a slight breeze, so you zip up your leather jacket and fold your arms over your chest, in as much a way as to keep you warm, and because you’re cross. As you’re not particularly fast, Erin, with her long legs, catches up to you quickly. Her face is pink and she’s a little out of breath having just ran in heels.

Erin grabs your arm and pulls you to a stop. You stop walking, but refuse to look at her, giving her the cold shoulder. “What was that back there? Where are you going?” she asks.

You stare at your shoes and speak to them instead of Erin “I don’t know, you tell me, Erin. I need some air.” You tug your arm free from her light grip and continue walking.

“You never just leave like that. What’s wrong?” she pleads.

Still walking, you leave Erin behind and speak to the concrete pavement. “I hate the way you look at him; it hurts me that you never look at me like that. I don’t know whether you’re coming or going.” You stop dead and whirl around, facing her where she is still a couple of steps behind. She catches up to you and stops in front of you, leaving a gap big enough so as to not invade your personal space. Taking a deep breath you continue. “I’m in love with you, Erin…” you sigh, loudly “I can’t believe I’m actually saying that out loud. Christ, this isn’t me. But I can’t help how I feel about you and it’s not even jealousy, it’s, it’s disappointment.” You stay, this time, waiting to hear her response.

“And you don’t think I love you? You think that kiss meant nothing? Kevin is just a friend, almost like a brother to me. I’ll stop hugging him if it bothers you, but Holtzy…” she places her hands on your shoulders to reassure you “…we have something special and I would never give that up for someone like Kevin.”

You shake your head, hearing the words, but not really registering them. There is numbness in the pit of your stomach. “It’s not the hugging, it’s the holding on too long, it’s the dreamy look in your eyes, the sweaty brow, the holding his hand a little _too_ long; that’s what bothers me.”

“Like I said, I can just stop hugging him. Hell, we could even fire him, if it’ll make you happy again. I just want you to know that at the end of the day, my heart is yours.” She smiles, but you don’t meet her eyes, for the third time.

“We _need_ a receptionist, Erin. We’re all too busy to answer the phones and, like Abby said, we need our terrible receptionist as we won’t find another that pretty. Also, I’m sure she mentioned something about him being so energetic and enthusiastic. He’s dumb as a sack of shit, but his heart’s in the right place.” With that, you turn on your heel and walk down the street, leaving Erin behind once more. As you walk, you thrust your hands deep into your overall pockets and hunch your shoulders, which Erin goes weak at the knees for, but you don’t know and don’t see her react.

Erin begins tearing up and catches up to you again. _“Holtzmann_ …” she whispers, her voice breaking _“…please just comes back to the lab with me. How about we go out after everyone leaves to make it up to you?”_

You meet Erin’s eyes for the first time since leaving and slowly you reply. “I, I just need to be alone for a little while. Just give me half an hour.”

“Half an hour? What are you gonna do on the street for that long?!”

“Go for a long walk. Erin, go back to the lab.”

Erin sits down on a green-painted iron bench and folds her arms. “I’m not going back to the lab without you. I’ll be waiting here for when you get back.”

As stubborn as you are, you cannot bear the thought of her sitting around in the cold and start to take off your jacket. “Fine, but you’ll get cold. You haven’t got a jacket.” You sigh and hand her yours. “Have mine.” You place it over her shoulders and she sits back down. Inhaling deeply, you nod your head and walk away for the umpteenth time.

As you turn your back, Erin snuggles into the jacket, inhaling the scent of you. Your jacket has accords of fresh amber and aromatic citrus fruits with a warm musky undertone – the cologne of choice being ‘Sauvage’ by Dior. She whispers into the air “ _Thank you, Holtzy, I’ll be here.”_

**_Twenty Minutes Later_ **

****

You return red faced and shivering from the cool air. “Fuck me, it’s cold. So, you’re still here then?” you ask, shaking your head, but grinning at the same time. The walk and the fresh air did you good and elevated your mood, clearing your head in the process. You sit next to Erin on the bench, who looks warm up top.

“Of course I’m still here, ya dork! I told ya I would be.”

Sighing again you lean back into the freezing metal, propping your elbows up on the back rest and splaying your legs as is your comfortable seating position. “Look, I’m sorry I overreacted, but I just felt like you wanted to forget that snog we shared.” You shrug at her and cross your left leg over your right, at the knees, but keeping your arms in place. “So you love me, ey? Well, I’m _in_ love with you Erin and you drive me crazy…er than normal.”

Erin looks you in the eyes and you don’t look away. This time, when she speaks, you hear and digest the words. “You didn’t overreact. I shouldn’t have done that and I’m sorry. Yes, I love you. You have no idea how much you mean to me.”

Despite what she says, you continue to protest your differentiation between loving someone as a friend and being _in love_ with them romantically. “No, no, I don’t think you understand, Erin. I’m IN LOVE with you. It’s different. I love Abby, I love Patty, but I’m in love with you, like seriously. Like this is freaking High School and I’m a teenager again and all I wanna do is kiss you all night long under the bleachers, and under the floodlights and in the back of the car and on the front porch and everywhere and in front of everyone. _That_ kind of feeling.” You pause, waiting for her to react, but not giving her chance to, you speak again. “Thank you for your apology though. Now, please can we go inside? My nipples could cut glass!” You get up and place your hands over your breasts to try to reduce their erection caused by the winter’s air and your thin crop top.

Erin gets up and grabs your hands, halting you. “And I am _in_ love with you, Holtzmann.” Her eyes dart to your chest and she smirks. “Now let’s go inside, before Patty and Abby come searching for us. As she starts to drag you away, you let her for a little while, until you arrive, just outside the Firehouse-cum-laboratory door. You tug her back slightly, but with a little bit of a force, so she does a small pirouette and falls into you.

Pulling up your left hand, which is still held by Erin’s, you place both of them in the middle of your chest. Placing your right hand on her left hip you pull her in tightly so that your bodies are touching. You kiss Erin deeply and feel her smiling against your lips, which makes you smile too. After the passionate kiss, you pull away, but only insofar as your foreheads touching.

“Good, I’m glad you’re in love with me too.”

Erin closes her eyes and sighs contentedly. As she does so, you kiss her on the temple and then the nose before she reopens then and stares into the dazzling blue orbs looking longingly at her. You stare at each other for a few more seconds before you are leading the way back inside through the red-painted teal door, which Erin closes with her free hand as your other hand is holding hers with fingers linked.

You hear a ruckus above you and running footsteps before Abby and Patty appear on the stairs. “Is that those lovebirds? We were starting to get worried!”

Abby notices your close proximity, but doesn’t notice you hiding your hands behind your butt. “Yeah, what happened anyway?”

You shrug and feel the back of Erin’s hand slide up your left butt-cheek as your shoulders raise. You resist the urge to grin and compose yourself. “I needed a minute… well 20.” You admit solemnly. “The missus and I are okay now, just so you know.” You accidentally call her your partner. You reveal your interlaced hands and stand there waiting for the squeals and overly-tight embraces from the girls. You’re not a massive fan of hugging, never have been, but Erin is slowly changing that one small hug at a time.

Patty is the first to notice. “Girls! Oh man, I am so happy for you both.”

Abby claps her hands, adding. “Thank God, about time you two got together!”

“Uh, we’re… not… together.” Erin replies slowly.

You let out uncomfortable gay laughter and face her. “Well, we can be, if you want? I dunno.”

Erin looks at between you, Abby and Patty and notices Kevin at the top the stairs. She squeezes your hand sharply and with new-found confidence, addresses the room so loudly, that it echoes off the walls. “Jillian Holtzmann, will you be my girlfriend?!” You stare at her, wide eyed, in confusion of the sheer volume and her initiative at being the first to ask.

“What a stupid question, Erin Gilbert. Since the day I met you and I asked you ‘come here often’? I have been bewitched by your beauty. Your smile and that twinkle in your eyes every time you see me gives me a giddy feeling inside. I want us to be weird together, but also serious when we need to kick ass. I gave you that Swiss Army Knife to protect you, because I wanted to protect you. Physics teaches us the mysteries of the Universe, Abby taught me about friendship, Patty taught me about being outspoken, but you taught me how to love and that love has grown stronger for you each day and I, I, er, shit, I’ve forgot what I was gonna say… Ah, fuck it. Yes I want to be your girlfriend. More than anything. Fuck me, look at me getting all soppy… and sweary… but soppy all the same.”

Abby and Patty exchange looks at your weird speech, but they shrug and tell you it was lovely all the same.

“Ah, well, I, er, didn’t know you were into the _ladies_ , Erin” a familiar voice from atop the stairs utters.

“You know I’m bi, right Kevin? But for Holtzy, I’m gay every day.”

“But you knew I was gay, Kev?”

“Yeah, well, your lack of approval for me and your swagger and manly postures kinda gave it away, plus I’ve heard the way you talk about Erin when you think no one is around.”

You chuckle nervously and wring the back of your neck. Kevin gallops down the stairs to pull you in for an embrace. You stiffen up and stare with wide eyes at Erin. Darting them between her and Kevin, you invite her to release you from his grip.

“Uh, Kevin, sweetie? Kevin. Kevin.”

“Hmm?”

“Kevin, Holtzmann doesn’t do hugs. Let go. And, er, I don’t want one. Thanks all the same.”

“Yeah, I’m cool, dude.” Patty says shaking her head.

“Kevin, I’ll give you one. ONE!” Abby says, emphasising the word. He marches over and quickly embraces her before sauntering back upstairs, leaving the four of you to talk and you and Erin to receive more congratulations.

The four of you head back upstairs, you and Erin still holding hands and sit around the dining table, the pair of you sitting next to each other instead of opposite each other. You snuggle into Erin’s shoulder and smell her hair; it smells of coconut, like her hands did the first time you met. You let out a soft moan and breathe in again and again.

“Uh, Holtzmann, are you sniffing Erin’s hair?” Patty asks staring at you with her brow furrowed.

“What? I, er, no.” You say quickly, cheeks flushing red.

Erin turns to you and kisses you on the nose. “You like the smell of coconut and I just bought new shampoo, especially for you.” She smirks as you and untangles her numbing fingers. They’re soft and warm against your clammy palm, as she drags them away, she lingers at the life lines and pretends to study them for a while. “You’re going to live a very long time and marry the love of your life and … that’s all I can read.” You beam at her, knowing _she_ is the love of your life.

“Can you actually palm read, or are you making that up?” Patty asks, bemused.

“Oh, no, I totally made that up.”

You look dejected and suck air over your teeth, pursing your lips together. Wiping your sweaty hands on your dungarees, you lean back into your chair and close your eyes.

You drift off momentarily and feel lightweight as you do so. All of a sudden you are startled awake by a hand behind your head and your body shooting forward. “Fu-wha-what the?!” you exclaim, panic rising in your chest. You hear the thud of the legs making contact with the tiles.

“You were leaning so far back; you started to tip your chair and nearly toppled over, so we grabbed you!” Erin shrieks, holding your head, with Abby around your middle and Patty and the foot of the chair.

You inhale deeply and exhale through puffed-out cheeks. “Well, shit, that’s never happened before. I’ve fallen off chairs, sideways, but never backwards. Jesus! That was a new experience. Thanks, guys.” You tip your head back in Erin’s hands and she kisses, you, Spider-Man style. Abby and Patty release you and the chair, respectively, and sit back in their chairs across from you.

“So, the phone’s been silent for far too long today.” Abby says. As if on cue, the phone rings and Kevin answers it.

“Ghostbusters. Please give a detailed description of your apparition… Mmm-hmm. Well, that sounds like an illusional meta-physious, spectro-mian… Well, that sounds very scary… It's probably 'cause you got a lot of bad karma from your previous life… Mmm.” Kevin says trying to be friendly with the caller. He jots some stuff down on a notepad and you all watch him do so.

“I thought you were gonna disconnect his phone, Abby?” Erin asks, sounding confused.

Abby chuckles. “Yeah, I did, for a while, but then we got overloaded on the website, so I had to reconnect it as people were leaving comments about us not answering the phone. So I sent a quick message to everyone basically saying we were having a new phone installed and that we were sorry for the lack of communication. Some people were less than understanding.”

“Figures.” Patty says.

You whisper into Erin’s ear and she shakes her head, giggling. You ignore the looks from Patty and Abby and continue. As you do so, she places her hand on your thigh and starts stroking the inner part with her thumb. You want to guide her, but you leave her to her own devices, trying to keep a poker face. She continues to rub your thigh, but on the third upwards stroke, she gets quite high and you inhale sharply as you push your pelvis into the chair and arch your lower back, whilst remaining slouched. You hold your breath and clench your jaw, for fear of giving away what she is doing to Abby and Patty. It appears they have no idea and you slowly relax, exhale and unclench your jaw.


	7. Chapter 5

You and Erin are alone in the lab, having stayed to tidy your desk after Abby, Patty and Kevin have left. Erin brushes down the front of her plaid skirt and puts her jacket over her arm.

“What was that back there?” you ask, putting various tools away into a drawer so aptly labelled _Tools and Wires_.

“What was what?” she asks innocently.

You narrow your eyes at her. “You know _exactly_ what I’m talking about Erin Gilbert.”

“Nope. No idea. Please enlighten me.”

Still with eyes narrowed, you shake your head. “The whole hand on the thigh thing? And the, the stroking.”

“Oh, so you liked that, huh? I wasn’t sure if you would.” Erin smirks and puts her suit jacket on.

You sigh, shutting the drawer with a _clan_ g. You go to leave your desk and notice the battery, you were sparking earlier in the day, is still on and there is a low hum emanating from it. You widen your eyes and quickly switch it off at the wall, before unplugging it and leaving it to cool. You shuffle some papers together, roughly tidying them and Erin shakes her head.

“If you’re going to make a neat pile of papers, Holtzmann, they do actually need to be _neat_.”

“Have I ever told you how anal you are about being neat, Erin?” you ask, sighing and shaking your head.

“Once or twice. You _do_ know I have OCD, right?”

You shake your head. “Oh. Well, er, that explains it. Sorry.”

She chuckles. “It’s fine, Jillian. So, about the leg thing?”

“I was getting to that. Yeah, of course I enjoyed it. Any hot woman stroking a lesbian’s thigh is gonna get noticed and they’re gonna get a reaction out of them. I just wasn’t expecting it, to be honest!”

“Oh, well, I’m glad you enjoyed it. I wasn’t sure, but I did it anyway, because it felt right, like something I had to do, yano.”

“Oh, well, you _had_ to do it? No spontaneity with you, is there?”

Erin shakes her head. “I didn’t mean it like that, I just meant it… oh, doesn’t matter. I did it, you enjoyed it. End of.”

“No, not end of. You’re my girlfriend now. You’re allowed to do that kind of shit. Just maybe not in front of the girls. It’s been a _liiiiiiiiittle_ while and I, ahem, might overreact. I had to legit bite my tongue to avoid gasping. Loudly.”

Erin giggles at you. “That’s okay, I wouldn’t have minded.”

“Yes, but _I_ would have minded. And I’m sure Abby and Patty would have had something to say about it.” You gather up your backpack, and grab both your leather jacket, which you had thrown off at some point during the Proton dissection and your oversized blue trench coat. Stuffing the leather jacket into your North Face backpack, you thrust your arms into your trench coat, before swinging the straps over your shoulders. You and Erin walk towards Kevin’s desk, where you switch off his desk lamp and you grab your car keys.

“Taking the Ecto for a spin are we?” Erin asks.

“Well unless you want to get a taxi, or walk, in the rain, I might add, then be my guest. Otherwise, you’re coming with me.” You handle the keys and switch off all the in-house lights. Locking the upstairs door, you head downstairs, before switching off the lights in the main building. Erin holds open the small door to the garage and you wander through before her. As she does, she takes a sneaky look at your bum and does a half smile in approval. She wanders over to the main Firehouse door, checking both the small in-built door and the main doors are locked before joining you in the garage.

“Hello, baby.” You say to the Ectomobile, sitting proudly, the chrome shining under the LED Batten ceiling light. You stroke the bonnet of the car and stare at the little ghost front-and-centre. “Such a good little bonnet ornament, this.” You say to Erin, although you’re still looking at the open-mouthed ghost.

“Did you just ‘baby’ the car, Holtzy?” she asks, shaking her head in disbelief.

“Yes, sorry, _baby_.” You say looking at her with a goofy grin on your face. Seeing the look of bewilderment and horror etched on to her face you speak again. “Sorry, was that too far? Do, do you not like, erm, pet names?”

“I do, just it’s going to take me a while to get used to this. My previous relationships were with men, and now I’m with a woman, well _you_ , so it’ll take some getting used to. Sorry.” She chuckles awkwardly.

“Hey, it’s okay. I totally get that!” you say before opening the passenger’s door for her. “Who said chivalry is dead though, after you, Eri.”

She smiles at this new nickname of yours. It’s cute and playful and only you call her it. “Thanks, Holtz.”

You shut her door and open the back door, dumping your bag on the seat, where it falls to the floor. Slamming it, you poke your tongue out at Erin, through the window, before clambering into the driver’s seat. Jamming the key into the ignition, you pull the door closed and put on your seatbelt before leaning over to kiss Erin on the lips for the fourth time that day. “I’ll never tire of doing that.” You say playfully, with a wink. She grins and gives you a quick kiss in return, before putting on her seatbelt.

* * *

“So, urm, my place or yours?” you ask taking a drink from your Pepsi bottle. You glance at Erin, before handing her the bottle to re-lid.

She shrugs. “I’ve not seen your place yet, maybe there?”

“I have to warn you, I’ve not had chance to clean it. Remember when we fought that green slimy ghost and I commented that the hotdog stall was like my kitchen? Yeah, I wasn’t lying. It’s bad, just a pre-warning.”

“Yeah, Slimer was gross. I’m calling it Slimer. And if your desk is anything to go by, I won’t expect anything less.”

“Hey!” you say, feeling hurt. “That’s cold, Erin. Man, you’re cold.”

She kisses your cheek. “I’m just teasing, you buffoon.”

“So, now you’re calling me a monkey? Jeez, what have I ever done to you? You’re gonna regret this, yano.”

She laughs and holds your hand on the steering wheel, briefly. “Oh, am I now?”

“Yeah, you’re gonna get it. I’m gonna tickle you and kiss you…”

“That doesn’t sound too bad.”

“Until you can’t breathe.”

“So, you’re gonna kill me, Holtz?”

“So you give up!” you say, flicking on the indicator and swinging the car to the right, tires squealing on the road.

After a while of driving straight, you turn right again. Shortly after turning right, you swing into an apartment complex and find your designated parking space labelled _Dr. J Holtzmann_.

“Wow, this is serious business. An apartment _and_ a named space? What next, room service?”

“This isn’t a hotel, babe. I had to get that sign cos I was fighting with students over parking spaces. Thankfully, not any of the students from the Kenneth P. Higgins Institute; ones from another college."

“Oh, cos _you weren’t_ like that at all?”

“They don’t even live here, they’re visiting their mates and people who pay rent should get the parking spaces. I wanted to make it clear that I had a higher standing than them, so Doctored my way into a space.”

Erin blows air through her nose in response. “Using your PhD for good, I see.”

“Always. Now, let’s get inside.”

* * *

Once inside your apartment, you toss your bag onto a stool and shut the door. Taking your coat off, you hang it up on the coat rack by the door, before offering to take Erin’s. Your apartment is a large loft apartment, with a mezzanine office above and the bedroom next to the kitchen, which, as per your warning, looks as if a bomb has gone off in there. There’s a mountain of dirty dishes piled high by the sink and the hob needs a deep clean. Erin wrinkles her nose and you clear your throat. “I’ll get those done, I promise.”

“How long have they been sat there, Holtzmann?”

You scratch your head, thinking; whether to lie, or to tell the truth. You opt for neither. “I have no idea” you say, thrusting out your bottom lip and shrugging your shoulders. “Cup of coffee?”

“Not from those cups, no thanks.”

“Hey, I have some clean ones. Somewhere.”

“Holtzmann, you need to clean those.”

“Yeah, I’ll do them later.”

“No, _now_. I’ll help.”

You sigh. “Fine.” You wander over to the sink and the pair of you get started on the week-old dishes and mouldy food stuck to the plates.

“You are officially disgusting, Jillian.” Erin says, through clenched teeth. She dry-heaves at the smell of something rotten and you laugh nervously before grabbing the Chinese box from her and disposing of it.

**_Half an hour later._ **

“Right, that’s the last of them.” Erin says, pulling at the fingertips of the bright yellow washing up gloves she found tucked at the back of the cupboard under the sink. You take the last plate and mug and pop them into the cupboard.

“Is this gonna be a thing then? You clean my apartment every time you come around?”

“Who says I’m coming around again?” Erin asks rhetorically before she winks at you. You open your mouth to speak, but have no comeback, so you shut it again and shrug your shoulders. As Erin turns to leave, you quickly take the tea towel off your shoulder and spin it around so that it wraps around itself. When it is tight enough, you snap it at Erin and the end whips into her butt. She jumps high in the air and yowls.

“OW! OH, MY GOD!” She yells. “What the hell?” she asks as she turns to face you, rubbing her injured buttock. Trying, but failing, to keep a straight face, you look at her scowling at you and burst out laughing.

“Oh, my God, that was funny! Come on, Erin, don’t be so boring. You’ve got enough stuck up your butt as it is!”

“Holtzmann, you’re such a child! That _really_ hurt” she says, before breaking and joining in with you on the laughter. “Gimme! Gimme that tea towel. You little shit, come here.” She demands, as you dodge her grabbing hands and run to the other side of the dining table. She follows you round it and you duck under her outstretched arm, only to come up the other side, closing the gap between you both with your mouth. You drop the tea towel as she drops her arms. This time, hers is the first tongue to start the sparks flying.

You slip your arms around her waist, and still kissing her; guide her towards the large, L-shaped sofa, before pushing her down on top it and launching yourself gracelessly on top of her. As you land, she lets out “ _oof”_ and you shrug, smiling apologetically. Your zealousness gets the better of you and soon you’re kissing her mouth and her neck and nibbling her earlobe, before returning to her lips, where you bite the bottom one and she lets out a moan. You kiss her again and again and bite her for the second time, before she pushes you off her and sits up.

“What?” you ask, sounding disheartened.

“What, what are we doing, Holtzy?”

“Erm, kissing?” you offer.

“No, I know what’s gonna happen. You and I are gonna make love on this couch.”

You shrug again and lick your lips. “So? Don’t you want to?”

She gulps, audibly, and now it’s her turn to bite her bottom lip. “Yes, but, I, I, I’m scared, Holtzmann. I’m a grown-ass woman who’s scared of having sex with another grown-ass woman.”

You place a finger on her lips, shushing her. “I get it, I really do. I’ve had more experience at this than you have and you’re worried about fucking up. Look, we don’t have to. Not today, we can when you’re ready.”

“But if we don’t? What if I’m not ready? What if I’m _never_ ready?”

“Then we have a sexless relationship. It’s not the end of the world, Eri.”

She inhales deeply, releasing her breath slowly. “I know, but you’re so _fucking_ excited and I feel like I’m putting a dampener on things.”

“Honestly, you’re not.” You reply, giving her a look. She shakes her head and looks down at her high heeled shoes. You sit in silence, waiting for Erin to come to a decision, not pushing her into anything and not touching her. She takes off the high heels and places them along the short end of the L-shape. You watch her and slowly untie your boots, before tossing them over the back of the sofa, where they land with a _thud_ in close proximity to the shoe rack.

“Just be gentle, okay?” She asks, meeting your eyes. You take her chin in your hands, stroking your thumbs on her jawline.

“Of course, I promise. I won’t do anything to hurt you, nor will I do anything you don’t want me to do. Look, are you sure you want to do this? Honestly, we don’t have to.”

She kisses you deeply and places soft, lingering kisses on your neck, making your skin hot and the fine hair stand up on end. She places one on the bone behind your ear and it sends a tingle down your spine. Knowing very little of how good that feels, she continues kissing you and you place your hands on her shoulders.

She breaks away from you and starts to unbutton her shirt. You watch her as she does so and swallow, not breaking eye contact. She stands up and unzips her skirt, much to your surprise. You sit there, mouth agape, lustily drinking in her beautiful figure. The way her wait tapers in and the way her breasts sit in her blue bra, small but perky and looking oh so delightful.

“Shut up.” She says, even though you haven’t said anything. “Well, are you just going to leave me sitting here in my underwear or are you going to do something?” You’re jolted out of your reverie and you spring from the sofa. You lock and chain the front door and run around closing the blinds, mumbling something about “other apartment blocks seeing in” before turning on the oval floor lamp and rejoining her at the sofa, unbuckling your dungarees and stepping out of them as you do so. You throw off your pine-green crop top and stand there in a black bra and NASA girl boxers and Pugtato ankle socks. Erin raises an eyebrow at these and you follow her gaze. “I like novelty socks, so what?” you ask, rhetorically.

“No, no complaints.” She says, but continues to stare at you, mouth agape.

“What are you staring at, Erin? My underwear doesn’t match, so what? My socks also rarely match.”

Erin opens and closes her mouth, like a fish, before speaking. “You have a _six pack?_ ” she asks, gobsmacked.

“Uh, yeah, I do. Is that an issue?” you reply, sheepishly, looking down at your own perfectly toned and tight abs.

“No, that’s, _hot,_ erm, cool, but how come you never told us about this secret six pack?”

“I don’t take my top off very often, so I just keep it to myself. Glad you like my hard work though.” 

“Yes, I _really_ do. Now get over here.”

“Yes, ma’am.” You say, leaping on to the sofa and landing on your knees. You run a hand through her hair and grab it tightly; enough to cause pleasure and not pain, tilting her head and exposing her neck in the process. You kiss her neck for a few minutes, before brushing the hair away and nibbling a little harder on her ear. The two combined sends Erin wild and she starts making a mixture of whimpers and moans, much to your satisfaction.

You lay her down on the sofa, and this time, you gently lay on top of her.

“Ready, Miss Gilbert?”

“Yes, yes, I am, Miss Holtzmann.” Erin replies breathily. You smile and continue.

You kiss her lips and neck again, placing soft and hard kisses down to her collarbone, where you kiss the length of her shoulder, slipping her bra strap off and kissing the shoulder itself. You repeat this on the other side.

Still atop her, you pull her up a little way, to undo her bra and you slip it off tossing it to the floor. You stop, to admire her lightly tanned skin, and the way her breasts stay perky even when lying down. You take one in each hand and gently massage them, lightly playing with her nipples, which begin to stiffen. With her moaning again, you take a nipple in your mouth and gently suck at it, feeling it harden on your tongue. Your free hand reaches down to stroke her inner thigh, getting closer and closer each time.

You stop, looking at her, waiting for the go-ahead. She nods and lets out a shaky breath. You nod too and continue your work.

You quickly find your way inside her underwear and start playing with her clit, feeling its warmth and its softness, and soon Erin is wet and you’re pulling her knickers off. You stop to undress yourself, forgetting about your socks, until Erin reminds you that you’re still wearing them.

You look at her sheepishly and pull at your earlobe. “Uh, I have this, er, _thing_ , where I can’t perform with my socks off. It’s an issue for me. I don’t know why, but I do _really_ badly with them off, so I leave them on. If you want a good, nay, _great_ first time, then let me leave them on.”

“Okay, leave the pug socks on.” She says closing her eyes. You smile at her small face and quickly get to her clit again. You lay on top of her again, just so that your bodies are touching, skin on skin and you start making circles with your fingers, which elicits more moans from Erin.

Now that Erin is as wet as you are, you slip a finger inside her and pump it back and forth slowly, assessing the situation. More pleasurable noises escape her lips, so you speed up a little and add a bit more pressure.

“Oh, my God” she squeals and you smirk.

You keep going, deeper and harder than before, and start to get a good rhythm going. You kiss Erin’s inner thighs, and still fingering her, you drop your head lower; breaking your own personal rule. You breathe out through your nose, the air tickling her and she giggles. You slowly take your fingers out and begin circling her clit again, but this time with your thumb. Her vagina is now soaking and you lick up the juices secreted. Your tongue flicks over her clit and she squeaks – a sound you’ve not heard before. You alternate between licking and sucking, straight up and down and circling all over her; you remove your thumb and work on her with just your mouth, applying different speeds and strengths of pressure. You feel her thighs starting to shake and you realise that she now must be pretty close. You stop licking and quickly insert your fingers once again, making sure to not let her lose the feeling. As you work, you feel her muscles contract around your fingers, squeezing them together. You make a mental note of how tightly they contract and try to work them free. They briefly relax and you continue making her feel good. Going deeper, you curve your fingers upwards, locating her G-Spot and making her cry out in pleasure. You make another mental note and play with her G-Spot, curving and flexing the tops of your fingers in short, fast and precise movements. She moans, and then yells, calling out your name. “OhmyGod. Holtzy!” you kiss her and stare into her grey-blue eyes, which are more grey than blue, and which are now beginning to roll back in her head with pleasure.

You continue with your finger work, feeling the muscles tense and relax and soon, her back is arching and sweat forms on her brow, her skin pink with heat and ecstasy. She squeaks again and holds her breath, before grabbing your hair and tugging it slightly. It hurts you a bit, but you take it as an involuntary sign that she is about to cum. Sure enough, with one more bounce against the G-Spot, Erin’s entire body tenses, squeezing your fingers and locking them into a bent position, which makes you wince, giving the fact that her contracted muscles are rather strong. You feel her whole body shake and she lets out a small sneeze as she reaches climax, shortly before she cums hard and fast against your fingers. You feel the rush of fluid, but stare at her wide-eyed; bemused at her sneezing. She moans extremely loudly and flops back down into the sofa, her whole body relaxing. You feel her vaginal walls throbbing and still feel the fluid rushing. You slowly release your now-sore fingers and lap up her cum. It tastes sweet and as you lick, you feel her jerk underneath you.

“Oh, my God. No, stop. Ooh, that’s sensitive.” She yelps. You finish licking her and grin at her. She covers her eyes with hands and lays back into the cushions. She lets out another shaky breath and laughs into her palms. She uncovers her eyes and stares at you, beaming widely. You go to wipe your mouth, but she pulls you in, not caring that it’s wet with cum.

“Er, Erin…” you begin.

“I don’t care.” She says, kissing you and tasting herself on your lips and tongue. “Fuck me, that was amazing.” She says, raggedly.

“I just did.” You quip, before blowing air out of your nose, and laughing gravelly.

“Oh, you.” She says, before slapping you on the shoulder. “Jesus, where’d you learn to do that with your tongue?” she asks still short of breath.

“Um, nowhere.” You lie. You don’t want to tell her about the time you were 16 at summer camp, with your camp counsellor, in her office after lights out. You lick cum off your lips and wipe your hands over your mouth before rubbing your palms together. You leave a worn out and sweaty Erin on your sofa and get up to wash your hands.

“No, come back. I want to have a go.” She says innocently.

“Get your breath back first then, Gilbert. And you can try.” You smile and wink at her.

“I will try. I can’t promise it’ll be good, but I might have just learnt a thing or two from you.”

“Have you now?” you ask, grinning. “You can have a go, providing you don’t fall asleep. You look fucking knackered, babe.” You say, on your return.

Erin sighs and tucks her arms under her head. You lie back down and wriggle on her, placing your head on her breasts, where her nipples are still erect. You kiss one and close your eyes, taking in the moment, reflecting deeply on your performance, Erin’s surprising and pleasurable reaction and her cute sneeze just before she orgasmed; she still hasn’t mentioned it, but you let it go – it isn’t the right time to ask. She wriggles her arms free and places one over your shoulder and the other around your waist.

Soon you fall asleep, curled up on top of Erin, on one side, with your head tucked under her chin, and her arms wrapped around you. You don’t feel the coolness of the apartment creep in or the light fading.


	8. Chapter 6

You wake up, naked and uncomfortable, lying on the cold, tiled floor, with one arm sprawled under the coffee table. You must’ve rolled off the sofa at some point. You hear a faint ringing coming from somewhere in the apartment. You see Erin’s figure still on the sofa and pick yourself gingerly up off the floor. It’s dark outside and there’s no light coming through the still-closed blinds. Fumbling around, in the low light of the lounge lamp, you try to locate the source of the ringing.

You cannot determine its direction and stumble to try and find the main light switch. Banging your shin on the sofa, you curse under your breath, but manage to find the second floor lamp’s light switch. You flick it on and are immediately blinded by the harsh white light. You scowl and squint, before blinking in quick succession. You stop to listen and notice Erin’s soft snoring emanating from the sofa, you grin at the sound and continue listening for your phone. You come to the conclusion that it must be in your bag or one of your jackets and head towards the Island Bar, the living room lamps illuminating your way. You reach the door and switch on the kitchen light, before dimming the switch.

You scrabble around in your trench coat, only to discover you’ve left your phone inside your leather jacket, which is inside your bag. You locate it and slide to answer the call.

“ _Hello?_ ” you ask the caller, in a hoarse whisper. “ _Oh, hi, Abby. Yeah, everything’s good over here. Yeah, uh-huh. Yes, it’s all locked up and all the lights are off. Uh, yeah, she’s, um, she’s here with me._ ” You look over your shoulder at the peacefully sleeping Erin, before pulling out a stool and sitting on it, still naked. You clear your throat and speak in a low voice. “Oh, were you supposed to meet? Oh, God, no, that’s totally my fault. Oh, man. Sorry, I, uh… distracted her. Yeah, no, she’s asleep on the sofa. I’ll wake her now. Okay. Sorry, what? Oh, we’re _all_ going out. Yeah, just let me get showered and dressed. I’ll send her back to hers… oh, to yours, okay, yeah, cool. Thanks, Abby. Bye.”

You hang up as Erin joins you at the bar. “Who was that, sweetie?” she asks, kissing you on the lips, before placing gentle kisses on your neck and breathing heavily into your ear.

“Uh, that was Abby. Apparently you were supposed to meet her two hours ago for dinner. She said not to worry and that we’ll go to the bar tonight instead. I told her you were here.”

Her eyes widen. “You didn’t tell her that we, yano… did you?”

“Oh, God no. I wouldn’t disclose that information anyway. Regardless of to whom I am speaking.”

“Okay good.” Erin sighs. “How long do we have?” 

“Well, you need to swing by Abby’s as she has something for you, but she didn’t specify a time. I told her I needed a shower. And that usually takes me twenty minutes if I wash my hair, which takes about an hour to curl and style – this isn’t natural curls; my hair is sort of tousled. So that’ll be nearly an hour and a half and then you got-” she stops you by kissing you on the lips again. You drop your phone on to the floor, but leave it there as Erin is kissing your collarbone, which turns you on. It’s her turn to make you feel good, and, having been a while, you don’t stop her, except to direct her back to the sofa. As she lies down, you put the main lights on again and she sits on the armrest, waiting for you.

On your return, she gets up and spins you around, before pushing you down on to the sofa. Now it’s your turn to be bottom; your least favourite position, but you’re too horny to complain. You lie there as she climbs on top of you, straddling you and as she leans down to kiss you again, her hair tickles your chest. You tense as this is not a feeling you’re familiar with. Seeing your body tense, she stops. “Sorry, I’ll tie it up.” Before you have time to react, she whips a bobble off her wrist and ties it up into a tight bun. You open your mouth to speak, but no words escape, so you close it again.

She continues kissing you, and then draws circles with her fingers around your areolas, going close to, but not touching your nipples. The tension could be cut with a knife and you really want her to play with them, but you resist the urge to be the alpha and tell her what to do. “You have really nice breasts, Holtzmann.” She says, still drawing circles.

“Thank you. You’ve got great tits too.” You reply, rather crudely. She raises an eyebrow, but says nothing. “You’ve got a great body too and that tan…” you kiss the palm of her hand, before taking a finger in your mouth and sucking it. She lets out a gasp, but pulls away, shaking her head.

“No, you’ve had your fun. It’s my turn. No touching.”

“But, I…” you begin.

“Not today, you don’t.” she says, slyly.

You lie back dejectedly and wait for her to continue. Finally she starts massaging your breasts and gently squeezes each nipple, watching it harden, before repeating on the other one. You inhale sharply through your nose. Having your nipples played with is one of your favourite things.

Erin leans down and takes your left nipple in her mouth, slowly sucking at it, before licking the hard pink cap. You moan with pleasure and you feel her smile at your reaction. She places kisses between each nipple, teasing you, making you want it more and more. She continues alternating between mouth kisses, breast kisses and nipple play before stopping.

“And, that’s your lot.” She says, sitting upright, but driving her pelvis into yours. You inhale sharply again and your whole body tenses.

“You’re _such_ a _tease_ , Erin.” You reply through gritted teeth. “Come on, you can’t be serious. I gave you at least fifteen minutes of my time and you can’t even give me five. What is wrong with you?” you whine, desperately wanting to be pleased by your new redheaded girlfriend.

She throws back her head and laughs; a spirited laugh that you’ve not heard before. Instinctively your hands go to her breasts and you start playing with her nipples before she slaps the back of your hands and pins them, one-handed, above your head. She holds them tightly as she kisses your neck again. “I’ll let go if you don’t touch.” She whispers into your ear. You nod and she lets go. Placing your hands under your head, you let her carry on.

Soft kisses trail their way down your sternum and down to your belly button, where Erin kisses and caresses the soft, but toned flesh there. She starts to kiss her way down the outside of your thigh, before drawing a hand up the inside, stopping just short of your sensitive area. She repeats this on the other side, making you hungry for sex. She sees the lust in your eyes, and smiles at you before placing her middle finger on your clit. She slowly rubs it in up and down motions and you let out soft moans. As she rubs, you widen your legs, instinctively, to give her better access and she cocks her head at you. You shrug, but say nothing. Her finger speeds up and your moaning increases, as does the wetness of your vagina, again. “Hmm…” she says and you crane your neck to look at her.

“Hmm? What’s _hmm_ , why are you _hmming_ at my pussy, Erin?”

“No, I’m just liking the feel of it, that’s all. And how slippery it is; how wet, yet still soft it is. And how pink you are down there. It’s cute.”

You sigh. “Oh, well, in that case, I’m glad you like the feel of another vagina; of me. Although, she’s never been called ‘cute’ before. That’s a new one.”

“You call it a she?”

“Well, duh, it’s not gonna be a ‘he’ is it? Please, just carry on, before I lose it.”

She giggles and proceeds to stimulate your clitoris. Carefully she inserts her middle finger inside you and pumps it in and out. You dig your head into the pillow and bite your lip. You feel her teasing you again, and it’s almost becoming unbearable. You dislike teasing, as you prefer the feeling of ecstasy; of the climax, where all pain and thoughts racing in your mind slip away, and in that, time is suspended, but you don’t let on. She senses your unease and begins to wiggle her finger instead of pushing it in and out; like a male partner would, and speeds up, taking you by surprise. She places and endless stream of kisses over your body and she continues to rapidly move her finger from palm to outstretched. As she does so, she slips her index finger inside and continues to finger you with two fingers. You let out a shaky breath and start to hyperventilate.

Suddenly she stops and removes her fingers. You swallow and sit up again. “Why’d you stop?” you ask, in between short breaths.

“You started hyperventilating, so I thought you were having a panic attack.”

“Oh, shit, no. I forgot to warn you that I hyperventilate and breathe heavily, I’m very loud. I’m a screamer, with the right person, and I was just enjoying myself. If you make me scream, you’ve done _very_ well for yourself, as it doesn’t happen all that often.”

“If you’re sure, I don’t want you pass out.”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. I’ve sometimes got lightheaded before I cum; it’s a mix of euphoria and discomfort as you think you’re going to black out, but I always manage to reel it in.”

“Don’t be passing out on me Holtzy.” Erin says, worriedly.

“You’re nowhere near deep enough, babe.” You reply, snorting.

She sighs and kisses your lips; you take this opportunity to insert your tongue and as you do so, she reinserts her fingers, catching a moan in your throat, and stealing your breath.

“Fuck!” you breathe.

Within minutes you’re hyperventilating again, but this time Erin carries on. She pushes in deeper and harder and locates your G-Spot. When she finds this, she pulls you down the sofa, pushing your knees up, so your pelvis is tiled forwards and your vagina widens inside. “Better angle” she mutters. Clearly, she wants you to scream.

Erin pushes against the G-Spot and simultaneously restarts playing with your clit with her other hand. The pleasure is overwhelming and you moan loudly, concentrating on the feeling and the rush of adrenaline and excitement filling your body. As Erin thrusts deeper, you start to become lightheaded and try to warn her.

“Eri … light … head … pass … oh, my fuck, that feels so good, oh shit … no …don’t stop … fuck …” your moaning increases in volume, until you, quite literally, shout with pleasure. “FUCK ME! OH … MY … GOD! FUUUUUUUCK!!!!” You arch your back and release the tension that’s built up within the pleasure. You grab a hold of the pillow under your head with one hand and the arm of the chair with the other. Your whole body tenses and sweat runs down your face as you cum hard and fast and then you black out.

Erin immediately stops and stares at you, panic etched on to her face. She calls your name, but you don’t respond. She tries to shake you, gently, to try and get you to come around. Leaping off the sofa, she places her hands on her temples and frantically wonders what to do.

She races over to where your phone is and first considers dialling Abby, before shaking the thought from her mind, and dialling for an ambulance. She begins pacing backwards and forwards, waiting for the line to connect.

“Oh, my God, hi. Yeah, I need an ambulance. No, she’s unconscious, um, I don’t know her exact age; I’m guessing thirties, maybe – similar to me. Yeah, um, well, it’s a little bit awkward…” she says, desperately trying to calm the situation and lighten it “…well, we were having sex and she, um, _orgasmed_ and then passed out. I really don’t know what to do. I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t – Oh, my God, I am so scared. Yeah, it’s um…” she begins giving your address. Slowly, you open your eyes, but the room is black and white.

You see Erin pacing back and forth, phone in hand, hyperventilating herself and you sit up, cautiously.

“Oh, my God, are you okay?” she asks, after she rotates and returns to the couch.

“Oh, she’s just woken up. Um, I don’t think we need you anymore, I’m so sorry to have wasted your time… Oh, that’s good, well, I, uh, thank you for the advice. Okay, yeah, take care now. Bye.” She hangs up, having been told to do so by a member of the ambulance crew. She comes over to the sofa and sits on it, and subsequently, on your legs.

“Fuck” is all that you can say. You wait until the tingling sensation disappears and the colour returns as you look into Erin’s distraught face.

“Oh, my God. I’m so sorry, I got carried away. I didn’t realise how deep I was; I was just enjoying the moment. Oh, God, are you alright?”

You swallow hard and exhale slowly. “Yeah, I’m fine, I think. Uh, what happened?” You kiss her and wipe away a small tear, which has found its way on to her cheekbone. You pull your legs out from underneath her and sit cross-legged, as she kneels down in front of you. “Hey, why’re you crying, Erin?”

“Because you blacked out; which means I didn’t do it properly. And then I panicked, and had to ring and ambulance, and…”

“Hey, hey, listen to me. I’ve never blacked out before, which means you did it right, to get me to lose consciousness.”

“How can you be alright about it?”

“It just means that the pleasure was so intense, that I forgot to breathe. I’ve held my breath before cumming a few times in the past, Eri, it’s not a big deal.”

She shakes her head and more tears fall. “You could have died, Holtzmann.”

“Oh, let’s not exaggerate, babe. So I lost a little oxygen, I’m alright, aren’t I?”

“Yes, but what if you had a cardiac arrest and you died? Great headline, I can see it now _Scientist Dies From Heart Attack During Lesbian Sex_.”

You chuckle and roll your eyes. “Did you have to mention the _lesbian sex_ part?”

“Oh, my God, is everything a joke to you?”

You kiss her and pull her in for a hug, rocking her back and forth. “Baby, I’m fine. I’m sorry I scared you, okay? Let’s shower together and go and meet Abby and Patty at Jacob’s.”

“Oh, it’s such a lovely place. I like their German import beers.” Erin replies calmly, before sniffing away her tears and pulling you carefully to your feet.

You wander over to the bathroom and open the door, before setting the shower running and fetching a couple of towels. On your return, Erin is already under the stream, but has left the door open for you to join. You close the bathroom door, to keep in the heat and then dump the towels on the floor, before stepping into the large cubicle, plenty big enough for two and feel the warm water wash over your cooled skin.

You back into Erin and push your butt into her pelvis, feeling her breasts on your back, her nipples still erect from a little earlier. She reaches around with her left hand and places it on your hip; bringing her knee between your legs, and spreading them before holding you in place. Her right hand comes around to grab your stomach and her left hand reaches down and into your vagina. As she starts playing again, you reach up with your left hand and hold her neck and back of her head. In this position, she is back in charge, but you owe it to her for passing out on her. The feeling of the water, coupled with the sex, makes your knees feel weak, and trying hard not to fall over, you grip Erin’s neck harder. As you do so, you reach behind with your right hand and start to finger her, your rhythm matching hers. You both moan loudly and reach climax within minutes of each other. As you cum, she sneezes into her shoulder and you feel her cum against your hand. She kisses your neck before whirling you around and French kisses you forcefully and passionately.


	9. Chapter 7

You meander over to join Abby and Patty at the large table near the bar – the same table you were sat at when you gave your heartfelt speech. As you approach, you let go of Erin’s hand to pull out a chair for her, before you sit down yourself.

“Did you forget we were meeting, Erin?” Abby asks as she sits down.

“I am so sorry. I got talking to Holtzmann and then I fell asleep on her sofa.” She lies, tucking her chair under. You avoid eye contact and pour yourself a beer from the pitcher in the centre of the table.

“Well, y’all made it now. That’s what matters.” Patty adds, pawing over a menu. “Have y’all eaten?”

You shake your head and cradle your beer glass, lightly furrowing your brow and watching the bubbles race to the foam atop the golden liquid.

“Oh, God. She’s thinking; this can’t be good.” Abby teases.

“Oh gawd, not another speech, Holtzy.” Patty jokes. You frown harder.

The conversation at the table stops suddenly and the silence drags out until the sound of the various restaurant conversations flood your ears, making you pull in your neck, screw up your face and close your eyes; it’s too much for you to handle today and the girls notice that there’s something wrong.

“Hey, Holtzy. You okay?” Patty asks at your pained face. You ignore her, but screw your face tighter, instinctively covering your ears with your hands; something which you’ve not done in front of them before, not even in the laboratory. The conversations get louder and louder, each person competing with the next and the sound becomes unbearable. You wrench the chair out from underneath you, where it slams to the floor and, barging your way through the busy restaurant, you blindly reach the door amidst the confusion and find yourself out on the street. You release the hold on your ears and find the alleyway next to the restaurant. Making your way down here and into the shadows, you lean against the cold, wet wall and dry heave.

Closing your eyes again, you find yourself sliding down the damp wall, leaving your back, in your thin yellow blouse, cold. Your butt makes contact with the concrete and you inhale deeply, trying to control your racing mind, thumping heart and the nauseating feeling in the pit of your stomach. You lean your head back into the wall and here the _clicking_ of heels coming up the alley. You know the pattern of the footsteps too well (that and the fact she’s the only one to wear heels), so you know it’s Erin approaching, before she even reaches you.

As she sees you sitting on the floor, she stops to stare at you for a little while, before running her hands down her butt, tucking her skirt under, and lowering herself gingerly on to the floor next to you. You bring your left knee up to your chest and leave your right one out flat in front of you. She settles down and crosses her feet before placing a hand on your knee. When she doesn’t immediately speak, you lean your head on to her shoulder and whisper _“Hi”_ she kisses you on the forehead and you feel yourself relax instantaneously.

“What’s going on with you, Holtzy?” she asks, quietly.

You lick your lips, formulating the words in your mind. Processing the question; worrying about the answer.

“Do you want to tell me yourself, or should I ask the others?”

“NO!” you snap, sitting up. You blink at her a couple of times and mumble and apology, before dropping your eyes to your brown leather ankle boots and pulling at the zipper. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have snapped. I-I’ll tell you, just be, just, just be patient, okay?” you ask, suddenly stuttering out of nervousness.

She gives your knee a reassuring squeeze and then takes your clammy hand in her own, stroking the back of it with her thumb. She wrinkles her nose at the stickiness, but doesn’t say anything. You gulp; audibly and bite your lower lip.

“Remember when we were asking you about your situation and how you met a ghost, then you and Abby did your dance and song, which was totally cute by the way, and then Kevin wandered over and played with the Prototype Air Filter Proton Grenade, the one that would cause instant liquification , and he started tossing it around, before chucking it in the air for Abby, releasing a scream from me and then Patty asked how, between him and I, how were we not gonna die, and then she said something about me getting professional help, probably because I did that Italian accent, and she thinks I’m insane?” Erin widens her eyes at you speaking without pausing, but nods. “Yeah, well, that day, she asked if I had been for professional help, and um, yeah, I have. Um, I have this, um, this, this, thing, this um, condition, that, erm, affects… _me_ … in…” you sigh and grunt at yourself, frustrated that you are having difficulty explaining yourself and being conflicted between not wanting, but also needing to tell Erin. You grunt a second time and briefly make eye contact with her, before placing the tip of your tongue between your lips and looking confused.

You’re trying to work out whether Erin will get up and leave, but thus far she hasn’t left, so you tuck your tongue back in and continue “…social situations… and it means that I, uh, sometimes struggle with loud noises, and overstimulating environments and, and, um…” you pause again, before speaking without breath “…IhaveAspergerSyndromeorjustAsperger’salthoughtechnicallythatisnolongerrecognisedasitisallpartoftheAutisticSpectrum” finally, you breathe.

Erin raises an eyebrow. “I’m so sorry Holtzmann, but I didn’t hear a word of that. I hate to ask you this, but _please_ can you repeat yourself?”

You look at her scared, but you comply. Now that you have said it once, it is easier to tell her, but you’re still worried at her reaction. “I have Asperger’s Syndrome, or just Asperger’s but it’s technically not recognised anymore, so it’s all just classed as an Autistic Spectrum Disorder, or High Functioning Autistic; either one. And, I… uh, oh, God, please don’t run away. I don’t think I can deal with another girl shooting me down, running for the hills and never speaking to me again. Please, please don’t leave me, Erin. I…” your voice cracks and tears fill your eyes; showing her your softer, more vulnerable side “…need you.” You manage to finish, before silently crying, covering your face with your hands.

She wraps her arms around you and pulls you into a tight, but awkward hug, before rubbing your back with her one hand and holding your knee with the other. She begins to rock you and this comforts you to the point where you stop crying.

“Hey, hey now. I am _not_ going anywhere, baby. You’re my girlfriend and I fucking love you Jillian Holtzmann. Asperger’s or not, I will always love you. You’re beautiful to me. Personality, attitude, looks, you’re amazing and I don’t _ever_ want you to change, okay? You stay as you are; stay golden, and we’ll get along just fine. Thank you for telling me. If it makes you feel any better, I did kind of guess you were Autistic, I mean Asperger’s, or had ADHD, but I wanted _you_ to tell me when _you_ were ready to. I’ve had some experience, by the way, as Shaun, from my class, was both Autistic and had ADD, so I’ve realised that some of the things he used to do, like echolalia; or in your case palilalia, as you’re repeating your own words, as opposed to parroting someone else’s, and stimming, is what you do and that’s okay. My perfect, beautiful woman, don’t you ever change and don’t you _dare_ apologise for being who you are. I have OCD, for cleaning and tidying, but I don’t apologise for it. And neither should you.”

She stops and places small, but delicate kisses over your face. You dry your eyes, and sniff, looking sheepish and embarrassed, but Erin doesn’t care. She takes your face and makes out with you, under the shadow of the alleyway. “There, now, that’s all better. Take a deep breath and if you’re ready, we can go back in, or the four of us can go somewhere quiet. How about we go back to your place?”

You nod and sniff again. “Actually, that’s a pretty nice idea. I’d much rather be somewhere safe.”

Erin nods and gets up, feeling her backside, she sighs. “Well, shit, I have a wet ass now.” You get up and turn around; she checks your butt out and giggles. “You have a wet ass too, but hey ho, we’ll be wet bums together. Come on, my love.” She holds out a hand, which you grab and lace your fingers in with her long and slender ones.

You walk around the corner, to find Abby and Patty, with your coats slung over their arms, waiting for you.

“You alright? We thought you’d done a runner, Holtzmann.” Abby asks, handing you your leather jacket.

Patty gives Erin hers and continues. “Yeah, you alright? I’ve never seen you leave like that! Hope you don’t mind, we gave the rest of the beer to some frat boys and they gave us thirty bucks for it!”

You scratch your temple, raise your eyebrows and nod. Patty notices you holding hands. “All good then, ladies?”

“Yeah, we’re fine, but we’re going back to Jillian’s. It’s too crowded in there and I can’t hear myself think!” she gives your hand a gentle squeeze.

“Yeah, I don’t know about you, but that was too overcrowded tonight, and I just need my own space. Somewhere familiar, yano?”

“Right behind ya!” Abby exclaims before flagging down the nearest taxi. You all clamber in and shut the doors. You give your address, before putting on your belt, and rummaging around for some change.

“I’ve got it.” Erin says from up-front. You sink back into your seat and enjoy the ride, looking out of the window at the streets of New York City.

* * *

You arrive back at your apartment complex and take the girls up to the fifth floor. Unlocking the door, you push it open and stand aside for them to enter. Before you left, Erin had done a run around and tidied it as much as she could, but seeing it now, from the corridor, it looks very tidy and not like your apartment at all. You clench your jaw and try not to make a fuss; being messy has its perks, as you know where everything is. “ _There’ll have to be some compromise with this one”_ you think to yourself.

“Welcome to my humble abode” you say, gesturing to the apartment.

“Yo, Holtzy, this is niiice.” Patty says, clapping her hands and laughing. She is the first to enter and she takes her shoes off at the shoe rack. Abby and Erin do the same.

“Thank you, it’s not much to look at, but it’s home.” You say, walking to the fridge. “Does anybody want a beer?” you ask, thumbing the direction of the fridge.

“Yeah, I’ll have one.” Erin smiles. You open the fridge door, which is below the freezer, and bend over in front of her, deliberately giving her the best view of your ass. You hear her sigh and clear her throat. It is evident that she likes what she sees. You straighten up and hand her a Budweiser. “Patty, Abby?” you ask. They both nod and you hand out two more.

“Thank you, baby girl.” Patty says, taking off the twist cap.

Erin kisses your cheek and takes a long swig. You shut the fridge and squeeze her free hand.

“So whatchu wanna do?” you ask, before taking a sip of your beer. It’s extra cold today and the fizz attacks your tongue. It’s tingly, so you rub it across your teeth to get rid of the feeling. Nobody answers, so you wander over to your 60” TV set up in the lounge. “Okay, we got TV, Xbox, DVD, Netflix, uh, music channels?”

“Ooh, babe, I saw some cards in a drawer back there, when I was tidying. How about we play _Rummy_?”

You drink some beer and try to remember if you’ve played it before. “Yeeeah, but I can’t remember the rules.”

“Hey, what’s ‘ _Rummy’?_ ” Patty asks. “I know like three card games, haha.”

Just as Erin begins to tell you all the rules, Abby gets an alert on her phone. “Uh, guys, we’ve got trouble.”

She turns her screen around to show you all a flashing red:

EMERGENCY!

“Well, shit, what does it say?” you ask before drinking more beer.

“Malevolent Class V apparition, near The Medusa Theatre, downtown New York.”

“Uhhh, that don’t sound good!” Patty replies.

“The Medusa. That’s got a lot of history. I believe there’s been a couple of murders in the boxes back in 1805.” Erin explains. She turns to you and you pull a face before shrugging. As Abby begins to read out the description of the apparition, you subconsciously down the rest of your beer and slam the bottle onto the coffee table.

You slap your thighs and stand up, preparing to get into something more comfortable to wear under your jumpsuit. “Les go!” you exclaim.

“I’m driving.” Erin says. You stare at her wide eyed.

“Fuck, no. Not my baby. You are _not_ driving the Ectomobile!” you shout, with a slight aggression in your tone.

The three of them look taken aback and Erin puts a hand on your shoulder. “You’re not driving after two beers, sweetie. Do you want me to nearly die? Again.”

You look between the three of them, before dropping your head and reluctantly sitting back down. You shake your head and wring your hands. “No, I don’t want that to happen to you. Not to any of you. But I’m a bit…”

“Possessive of the car?” Erin offers.

You narrow your eyes at her and click your tongue. _“Bitch.”_ you mutter under your breath. Not meaning it maliciously, but playfully. She hears it and elbows you in the ribs.

“Bitch, to you too, Holtzmann.” She throws her head back and laughs. “Right you, get into your comfy clothes and we’ll head back to the lab for our gear.”

“Yes, ma’am.” You say and saunter off.

Five minutes later you return and the four of you are in the elevator on the way down. “Oh, balls! Eri, did I lock the front door?”

“I think so, sweetie.”

“No, no, no, no, no, no, no. No, shit, I _need_ to know. Did I lock the door?” You begin panicking and trying to press the button for the floor below you.

“Holtzmann? Holtzmann. Stop.” Abby holds your hand and whirls you around. “Holtzmann, look at me. You locked the door. I promise you, you locked it. You checked the door handle four times. You’re good, I promise you.” She pulls you in for a hug and glares at Erin, you see her embarrassed face in the mirror along the back wall. The elevator doors _ding_ open on the third floor and you turn to watch the doors slide open, smiling sheepishly at Abby. Erin mouths an apology at you, but you ignore her.

When the doors close again, she tries to slip a hand into yours, but you pull away from her, thrusting your hands deep into your pockets and hunching your shoulders forward. Eventually the elevator arrives in the reception area and you exit the building. Tossing Abby the keys, you climb in the back and slam the door. You slump in the seat, and fold your arms, as if you’re having a sulk.

Erin sighs and looks to Abby for comfort. “She’s really pissed, huh?” she asks.

Abby glares at Erin and begins to inform her of your condition, but Erin doesn’t tell Abby she already knows, in case there’s new information. “Well, yeah, Erin. Holtzmann has Asperger’s and some things can be a little overwhelming for her. When she is overwhelmed, or stressed, it can appear as anger, upset, anxiety or even causing her to be an introvert. And we _know_ Holtzmann is an extrovert, who doesn’t get angry or anxious very often. I’ve only ever seen her angry with me twice. I’ve seen her upset and confused once and I’ve seen her anxious for the first time today. She can be delicate, Erin. You gotta understand this and take your time with her. I’ve worked with her long enough to know what 'sets her off’ and how to avoid those situations. One of those is _knowing_ that she turned off all the lights or locked the door. It’s a bit like OCD, Erin. You know how that is; you have it yourself, so you know how stressful life can be. Just be gentle with her and try to _learn_ from her and _with_ her, so you can both grow as individuals and as a couple.”

You quietly roll down the window to eavesdrop on their conversation. “How do I make this particular event better? I’ve tried apologising.” Erin asks, sighing frustrated.

“Give her space, Erin. She needs a time out. Not like a naughty kid has a time out, but she needs a minute to calm herself down. If she starts stimming in the backseat, leave her to it, it’s her way of calming down.”

“Uh, okay, not to sound like a dumbass here, but what’s stimming?” Patty asks.

“Stimming is…” Abby begins.

“Self-stimulatory behaviour.” You say through the rolled-down window. Erin jumps having not heard the window going down.

“Jesus, Holtz.” She says, turning to face you.

“Children and adults on the spectrum do this to help them calm down. Or occupy their brains. Like me spinning on my stool, or chewing straws, or tapping my foot. Or, um, licking my Proton Pistols.”

“Oh, so _that’s_ why you do those things. I thought you were just playing; like being a kid.” Patty responds, pulling an _‘I understand’_ face.

“Well, they are child-like traits, but I can’t always help them.” You say, before shrugging and sighing. “Get in losers, we’re going ghost huntin’!” you say, cheerily, sounding exactly like Regina George from _Mean Girls._ Patty slides in next to you and Abby clambers in the driver’s seat, leaving Erin the driver’s passenger seat.

“Holtz, I need to adjust the seat and mirror, okay?” Abby asks, turning in her seat to face you.

“Do you have to?” You ask, re-folding your arms.

“I know you don’t like changes, but I have to because I’m shorter than you and I can’t see out of the mirror.”

“A’riiiight.” You sigh and look out the window.

Abby adjusts the seat and the mirror and drives you all back to the laboratory, where you are greeted by an anxious Kevin.

“Ke-vin! Buddy!” you yell, lightly punching him on the arm. You dash inside, not wanting to stay and chat. Erin follows you and sits down at the dining table. She watches you dash off to grab your jumpsuit and get changed, before grabbing hers and silently doing the same. Abby and Patty wander in and you emerge from the direction of the toilets. “I’ve got the packs!” you shout, before reeling. The beers and the adrenaline hit you at once and you stumble. Erin is there to catch you and she sits you down at Kevin’s desk.

She places a hand on your knee as you bury your head in your hands. Abby and Patty return and, grabbing their Packs, see you sitting down and Erin squatting at your feet. They observe you both, but leave the room, taking Kevin with them.

“Holtzmann…” Erin begins, before stopping as you lift your head up slowly. “I-I didn’t know that you were, um, you know, needing to make sure the door was locked. I was so flippant and I shouldn’t have been. I’m the exact same, but I didn’t think anyone else was. I didn’t realise how much stress that would cause you, because I didn’t think and I didn’t stop to ask.”

“No, you didn’t stop to think.” You begin, aggressively. “You only thought about yourself and not how I might be feeling; how I might have been _worrying_ about the front door. I’ve got to be the one who lives inside my fucking head, Erin. You don’t understand how debilitating and draining it is, mentally, to have to appear “normal”; like a neurotypical, when most days you just want to scream, or cry or lash out because the world is so loud and bright and confusing and scary, but you can’t because you’re a motherfucking 34 year old, grown-ass woman, who’s supposed to be a brilliant scientist, with an IQ of 163, and who is supposed to appear sane, when sometimes you just feel _insane_ and the only comfort you have is spinning on a fucking stool or busying yourself in your tools and wires, trying to make something, because _that’s_ when you feel safe and at home and valued. _That’s_ when you know everything is right in the world, when you get to do the science-techy things that you love.” You lapse into silence, but exhale loudly and sharply. Erin sits there, with tears forming in her eyes, before getting up and wandering over to her Pack, still hanging up on the wall.

She slings it over her shoulders, before returning to you. “I’m sorry you feel that way, Jillian, but to me you are valued, you are safe, you are _loved_ ; most importantly, _I love you_. And I love the way you are. The way you talk, the way you walk, the way you sing random little sandwich songs. The way you’re always making something new; the way you get excited about your new gadgets. I love everything about you and I’m sorry that I caused you pain and hurt and upset. I didn’t want to do that; I never want to do that. Help me to understand you better. I know you as Dr Jillian Holtzmann, PhD, but I want to know the _real_ Jillian Holtzmann, without the titles. I want to know what makes you happy, what makes you sad, what makes you angry, what makes you vulnerable. I want to know _exactly_ what makes you, well, _you._ Please, please forgive me. I didn’t know and I will try harder to make it right. If I have lost your trust, then I will do everything in my power to regain it, but I will need your help if you want me to still be around.”

“Don’t give me ultimatums, Erin. Yes, I want you around, of course I do. Don’t, don’t, don’t _say_ that. Don’t you ever say that, because I will always want you around! You’re my girlfriend, my light, my-my” you grunt out of frustration “my world, Erin, and as gay as this sounds, I want to be with you for as long as we are able. Don’t leave me, okay? Not now that you know this. Look, I’m sorry I pushed you away, and had a sulk in the car and had a tantrum just now, but you have to understand that me wanting to know if the door was locked was like you and your OCD. It’s an integral part of who I am and I can’t always switch off and ignore it, okay? Now come here and kiss me, as an apology and we’ll go rejoin the others.” She pulls a face at you. “No kisses now, then no more sex later.”

Erin scoffs. “I can’t give _you_ an ultimatum, but you can give me one?! Baby, that’s harsh, but I accept those terms and conditions.” She leans in and her soft lips meet your chapped ones. She pulls a face and you apologise for their dryness. “Don’t worry.” She mutters.

You pull apart just as Kevin enters the room, and clears his throat. “Um, sorry to bother you, when you’re, um, _busy_ , but perhaps now is a good time to tell you that you’re needed downstairs.”

You squeeze Erin’s hand and meander over to your Pack, hanging up on the wall. You pull your jumpsuit up, over your shoulders and zip it up, before adjusting your collar and flattening the lapel. You bring the Pack on to your shoulders and clip it in place, before heading towards the door. “Oh, I almost forgot.” You say, stopping in your tracks. You head back to your desk and grab your Ghost Trap. “Hold this, will ya?” you ask Kevin, who’s stood there as usefully as a rain-catcher on a dry day.

You hand him the Ghost Trap, before taking your Pack back off, taking the trap off him and attaching it to the base of your Pack and strapping it up. “Ooh, just one more thing!” you exclaim to his quizzical look. You amble over towards your desk and pick up a small square-shaped screen, with several toggle switches, on an armband (your Upper Arm Remote Trigger for the Ghost Trap, which you first used at The Stonebrook Theatre). You check it works before hoisting it up your left arm and placing it on your bicep. You check that the Trap is secure, before donning your Pack, and patting Kevin on the forearm.

Now that you’re ready to go, you head towards the door and walk down the stairs, completely forgetting to grab the keys off the hook. As this is something you don’t normally forget, Erin calls after you and you stop halfway down the stairs.

“Um, babe, aren’t you forgetting something?” she calls from the landing atop the stairs.

You think for a minute, before turning and placing a foot on the step above you. “Noooo, I don’t thiiiink sooo.” You say, drawing out the words.

“Keys, Holtzmann. You forgot the keys.” She replies, hands on hips.

“Ah, shoot. Can you lock the upstairs and bring down the car keys, please? Kevin, buddy?”

“Yes, boss.”

“Man the phones, would ya?”

“Uh, yes boss.”

“And don’t forget to _write the messages down_.” You emphasise, cocking your head at him.

“Yes, boss. Phone rings, answer, write the messages down. Don’t lose the notepad. Got it, I can lock up here, if you want? Erin can watch me.”

You widen your eyes as he disappears to retrieve the keys. Erin stands there and watches him lock up and jiggle the handle, before handing her the keys and following her down the stairs. She reaches you and offers you the keys, as you go to grab them; she retracts her hands, and then offers them again. You sceptically go to take them again, but this time, she holds them over her head. You shoot her a look; a mixture of frustration and disappointment.

“Baaaabe!” you whine. As Erin’s arms are longer, you cannot reach them without jumping, but you resist the urge to do so, on account of being on the stairs. You sulk at her and wander down the stairs, towards the Firehouse door. She giggles at your back, and you throw up your middle finger at her over your shoulder.

“Ooh, flipping me off now? Real mature, Holtzy.” She retorts, sarcastically.

Kevin rolls his eyes at you two and walks past Erin on the stairs to his desk at the back-centre of the Firehouse. He sits down and props his feet up on the top; crossing them, he settles back into his chair and waits for the phone to ring.

You enter the garage through the side door, whereupon the light flicks on at your motion; leaving the door ajar, you wait for Erin to catch up. Leaning against the driver’s door, with your Proton Pack at your feet, you widen your stance and fold your arms across your chest. She enters the room and sees you casually leaning against the door. Blowing air through her mouth, she stares at you and licks her lips.

“Like what you see?” you ask, smirking.

“How do you do this to me, Jillian? How do you make me have butterflies in my stomach and weak knees, just from leaning against a damn car?”

“It’s the stance, isn’t it?” You ask her rhetorically.

“You’re so gay, Erin.” Patty’s voice cuts through, making you both jump. She rises from a deck chair in the shadowy corner and you turn to see her and Abby waiting for you.

“I’ve been waiting a long time.” Abby says.

“It has been a while, hasn’t it?” Erin asks, rhetorically.

“Nice of you ladies to join us” Patty says, raising an eyebrow. “Come on, we’re late again. You two need to stop dawdling and get your act together. Holtzy, you used to be so quick off the mark. As soon as Kevin put the phone down, you’d be in that jumpsuit and in the car with all four Packs in the boot. Now that you have a girlfriend, you’re as slow as a tortoise and you’re making us hares wait.” She gestures to herself and Abby.

“Slow and steady wins the race, Patty.”

“Baby girl, this ain’t no race, there is ghosts out there and we’ve a duty to catch them, but not when you and Erin are taking your sweet time to come down a set of stairs.”

“Yeah, don’t become Bennie.” Abby replies, shaking her head.

You unlock the car and the four of you clamber in, with you in the driver’s seat. “Uh, anyone know the directions to The Medusa?” you ask the car.

“Really, Holtzmann?” Abby asks, confounded. She whips out her iPhone and taps the Maps app. You hear the phone _clicking_ from the passenger’s seat as she types in the address. “You ought to have a phone holder, she says, pointing at the AC grill in the dashboard.”

“Distractions, Abby. No, thank you.” Plus, I have you guys … but not Erin … to map read.” Erin leans forward from her seat, diagonally behind you, and punches you hard in the arm, making it go dead. You wince and screw up your face.

Abby sees your pained expression. “You okay there, Holtzy?”

“Uh-huh.” You squeak, your eyes watering against the shock. You let out a pained breath and stare at the garage door. You press a button attached to the sun-visor and watch the door roll upwards; metal scraping against metal. Turning the key, the car roars into life and once the way is clear, you shout to the others: “Who’s ready to save New York?” You’re met with a chorus of whoops, and as you skid around to the right, you turn on the siren. Its loudness juxtaposed against the silent street.

As you shift gear with your right hand, your arm throbs and you wince again. Abby notices a second time and calls you out on it. “Holtzmann, seriously, what’s wrong? You keep pulling faces when you move your right arm.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I’ll be fine.” Abby looks at you, disbelievingly and you sigh. “My arm’s dead, _Erin._ ” You stress her name, so she knows you’re directing the comment at her.

“What did I do?” she asks, pretending not to know.

“Bae, when you punched me it was pretty bloody ‘ard, and it made my arm go dead. It’s still partially dead now!” you grumble.

“Ohhh” she whines. “I’m sorry, Holtzy baby. I didn’t mean to punch you that hard. Oh sweetie, you should’ve said right away.”

“Uh, guys, as much as I love that you two are together, you speaking in a baby voice, Erin, is making me _really_ uncomfortable and I feel a bit sickly listening to you coo over each other. Save that for the bedroom! Put your bustin’ hats on and let’s go kick some phantom-ass!” Patty replies, pulling a face, which you catch in your rear-view mirror. You mouth _sorry_ at her and turn on the stereo.

The cheesy pop song emanates from the car speakers and you turn up the volume. The four of you know the song, as you have played it on repeat from your old boom box, but the others allow you to sing along: “When it feels like the world is on your shoulders, and all of the madness has got you going crazy…” you stop to listen to the lyrics. “Gawd, I _love_ _‘Rhythm of the Night’_ such a feel-good song. Uh, Abby, crossroads… where are we--”

“Turn left, then immediate right.”

* * *

You slam on the breaks outside The Medusa, and you all lurch forwards.

“Again with the harsh breaking, Holtzmann?! You’re not invincible and neither are we. One of these days, you’re going to have a crash and get hurt; not that I wish that upon you!” Abby queries, before making certain you understand her intentions.

You give your throaty laugh (as you did when you commented on Rowan’s cyclotron, stating that you would have used a chromium alloy, instead of aluminium) and exit the car in a burst of energy. You arrive at the boot and pull at the door handle, the door doesn’t budge; nothing.

“Come on, baby. Come on, Ecto. Don’t do this to me. What are you–Oh, Ecto. Play nicely. Why won’t–” you grunt in frustration at the jammed boot. You pat the door and jimmy the door handle, but to no avail. “Ecto.just.you.fucking.open.we.have.work.to.do!” You snarl through gritted teeth. You punch the tailfin to the left of the door and immediately jerk back your hand and shake it vigorously, having punched the metal a little too hard.

“Come on, Holtzy. Quit playin’ and open the door.” Patty says. “Now is not the time for your games.”

“I wish I was playing…” you sigh “…the door is jammed and I can’t free it. Patty, you grab the handle and when I shout, pull it down okay?”

“Uh, okay, but where are you going?”

“Inside.”

“Holtzy, not the time.” Abby replies.

“No. Inside the car.” You clamber in the back and climb, gracelessly, over the back seats. You sit down, on the gurney, in between the Proton Packs, with your feet braced against the door and your hands clutching the sides. The metalwork creaks under your body weight, as it’s only on small roller frames.

“Okay, on my count of three. When I get to three, I _need_ you to pull down the handle as I kick the door.”

“Ain’t I gonna get hit?” Patty interjects.

“Probably. Yes, I would say that you, in fact, _will_ get hit by the door.”

“So, why do I have to do it? And not gorilla arms over here?” she questions, pointing at Erin. The pair of you give her a cross look.

“She may have long arms, but she’s not a gorilla. She’s my orangutan! And because you’re the strongest.”

Erin glares at you and you shrug from inside the car. “One...” Abby and Erin stand back. “Two…” Patty grabs the door handle and positions herself at an angle from it. You bring your right knee towards your chest, ready to drive it into the door; ready to, hopefully, open it. “Three!” You shout the last number and as you do so, Patty pulls the door handle down and your foot connects, hard, to the back door. It flies open and Patty lets go to move out of the way. The momentum carries the door around on its aged and worn hinges, which buckle and snap, with a _creak_ and a _clang_ as the door slams into the frame and then the floor, leaving the top of the door detached and the bottom half resting at a jaunty angle.

“Well, fuck.” You say, getting off the gurney, before Abby pulls it forwards. They each grab their Proton Packs and you crawl through the boot and over the gurney, whacking your shin on the end of it in the process. “ARGH! FUCK! SHIN!” You shout in pain. You have a sharp intake of breath, between your teeth and rub it better, before speaking in a normal tone and volume again. “Looks like Ecto’s gonna need a repair. We can’t just leave her like this, but we’ll have to. I’m sorry, baby.” You say, throwing your Pack over your shoulders and stroking the boot door. “I’ll fix you up nice and good, but we gotta sort these ghosts.” You turn to raised eyebrows and a couple of rolled eyes and go to grab the door.

Erin places a hand on your shoulder. “You’ll have to leave it, Holtzy; we haven’t got time to fuss anymore.”

“But the equipment on top is highly dangerous, unstable and sensitive and it’s basically a Nuclear Reactor. If this falls into the wrong hands…”

Erin looks at you and you pout at her. She rubs your arm, before speaking. “You’ll just have to pick the door up as much as you are able, and leave it as it is.”

“And take the keys out of the engine!” Abby orders.

You do a two-fingered salute at her; your signature ‘Lesbian Salute’ and go to fetch the keys.


	10. Chapter 8

**_Two days later_ **

****

The sound of clanging and swearing fills the garage as you pound at the hinges of the Ecto-1 with a rusty and woodlouse-bitten hammer; you couldn’t find your new one, so you hoped your old faithful would still hold fast. Having lost the repair manual, you make it up as you go along, hoping for the best; much like the first time you built the prototype Proton Pack for yourself, or even the large Nuclear Reactor at age 12. You grunt and swear as, with a final hit, the top of the hammer falls off and the handle splits down the middle. You suddenly inhale deeply through your nose as the steel hammer head lands on your foot. You wince and bite your tongue, holding the side of your fist up to your mouth to contain the scream that will surely escape your lips. It’s at this moment that Erin walks in the garage and sees you fighting back tears and biting into your hand.

“Babe? What’s up?”

You squeak in pain and point at your foot. You haven’t actually moved enough to remove the hammer head, shock having momentarily taken over your body.

“Oh, my God!” she shrieks. What the hell happened?!” It is her high pitched exclamation that sends Patty and Abby running into the garage. Erin stoops to pick up the hammer and you let the tears finally fall.

“Oh, my, baby girl. I told you to wear steel toe caps. Are your toes broken?”

You stare wide eyed at your toes thinking the worst and begin swaying backwards and forwards, still biting your hand. Abby sees you and puts a comforting arm around your shoulders.

“Ow.” You squeak. You cry again; hard and silently. Abby rubs your back as you let the pain wash over you, before coming to your senses and asking to be sat down.

“I _need_ to look, I don’t wanna. What if they’re crushed? I can’t …” you dry heave at the thought of crushed toes. Erin hears you and comes rushing over, grabbing a bucket in the process.

“If you need to be sick, vomit in here, okay?”

You grumble and bend down to untie your shoelaces. Erin goes to help, but Abby holds her back, whispering something about you ‘not being an imbecile’. Loosening all the laces of your boot, you gingerly work the boot off until it is free; your white sock, mercifully, has remained white. You peel the sock off from heel to toe and examine your foot.

“How in the hell?” you begin, amazed that your toes are still intact. You painfully wriggle them and to your surprise they move with ease.

Patty knocks the toes of your boots. “Just as I suspected, steel toes. See, you did listen to me.”

“Um, Patty, sorry to disappoint. They’re not actually _steel_ toecaps; if they were my toes most definitely would have been crushed. They’re just hardened; I’m not sure of the material, but it’s probably not leather.” You shrug and replace your sock and boot, tying the laces up carefully.

“You need to be more careful, Holtzmann” Abby says picking up the pieces of the broken hammer. “No wonder this broke, this has been chewed by woodlice. Where was this?”

You shrug, pretending not to remember. Abby backhands you across the arm. “In the rusty red toolbox in the corner” you say, pointing in that general direction.

“Holtzmann, what have I told you about that toolbox?”

“Chuck it out because you could get a…”

You speak together. “…MRSA infection, or lead poisoning.”

“Exactly, Holtzmann. A MRSA infection isn’t something to be proud of; it’s really bad for you. Get rid of it, and this.” You tilt your head back and pull a face; wrinkling your nose, down turning your mouth and squinting your eyes. “ _Now._ Come on, do I _really_ have to babysit you?” You shake your head and take the broken tool. You mutter under your breath, but pick up the toolbox and walk out of the open garage to the alleyway containing the bins.

“And don’t you _dare_ try and salvage anything, Jillian!” Abby shouts as you disappear around the corner.

Upon your return, all but Erin have left and she greets you, rising from the deckchair in the process. “Hey babe, you okay?”

You nod, raising an eyebrow at the same time. “Yeah, I will be, just wasn’t expecting Clint to fall apart like that.”

“Clint?”

“Yeah, the hammer.” You rub your neck. “Old faithful - named after Clint Eastwood.”

“Any particular reason why?”

“I like his movies. And he’s always a reliable character.” You say taking the seat from under her. You position it to face her and the car at an angle and sit down on it. You find something to rest your feet upon, but having found nothing; you rotate, so that your legs balance over the arm of the chair. Erin rolls her eyes at you and wanders over to where the second deckchair is. She picks it up and wanders to the back of you, where she unfolds it and perches atop it before edging it forwards.

“What are you doing?” you ask her, craning your neck to try and see her.

“You carry a lot of tension in your shoulders.” She says, seductively. She begins to massage your shoulders and you moan gently in pleasure. “Jesus, that is a big muscular knot.” She replies, careful to not sound too ominous, in case Patty and Abby overhear.

“Yeah, well I have been stressed recently.” You retort. “What with the Ecto breaking and the debacle with us and the ghosts and, and…” you trail off as Erin stops kneading the knot out.

“I wish you wouldn’t keep bringing that up.” She says dejectedly, letting her arms fall to her sides.

You swivel to face her. “I’m sorry. I know, I’m sorry, but it does still get to me. I’m trying to let it go, but I keep thinking what if that happens again. Can I trust you again?”

“Oh.” Erin says disappointment, rejection and hurt in her voice. “Well, if that’s the way you feel…” she gets up and leaves the garage, slamming the door in the process.

“You twat, Holtzmann. Why couldn’t you have kept your fat mouth shut? Well done, now that’s her done.” You say to yourself before getting up and wrenching the door open. This time it’s you chasing Erin, but she doesn’t go out the front door. You see Erin dashing up the stairs and you take them two at a time to keep up with her.

“Erin! Wait, please. Can I just? Erin? Stop. Please? Just look at me? Erin!” you call after her, panic and upset rising in your voice. You carry on, ignoring the bemused faces of Abby, Kevin and Patty. She takes the stairs to the roof and lets the fire door slam shut. You hear its _clang_ echo off the walls and run up the last few steps. Bursting through the door, you see her standing too close to the wall and your heart stops. You resist the urge to smother her and instead approach her cautiously from the side. “Erin, please.” You say quietly. “Please don’t do anything rash and stupid. Not like this, not now. Please, just come away from the ledge. I-I-I can’t bear the thought of losing you. I’m a bitch and that was a dick move, but please, just do me a favour? Here me out, and don’t fucking jump.” She turns to face you, still a little way off from her and she sits down on the floor, back resting against the wall. She cries softly and you edge your way over to her, fearful of what she might do. When she doesn’t budge, you sit next to her and take a hand in your lap. “Erin…” you sigh; knowing this is going to be another struggle. “You taught me how to love, from day one. You taught me how to live for someone else, to be there for someone else and-and-I-I-I…” you sigh again, shaking your head. “Oh, what’s the use? I can’t fucking say it anyway, not with my brain all a mess.” She lifts your clasped hands, and kisses the back of yours before releasing them and holding your face.

“I know. I get it. It’s just that, I, I’m a control freak and not being in control, or being trusted, makes me revert back to my old self and I don’t like it. My old self is someone I don’t like. Someone with self-esteem issues, with trust issues. Someone who bites their fingernails down to the nubs and pulls their hair out in clumps. Someone who had severe anxiety problems; who only overcame them by becoming a scientist and in turn a lecturer, where I am in control, where I can do what I can do, what I _want_ to do; where I _am_ in a position of trust. I feel like I’ve betrayed you and lost your trust. I feel like you don’t want me around and that you don’t love me and that I’m useless. I’ve felt like this multiple times as a teenager, and as a young adult and it, frankly, it hurts, Holtzmann. I used to get bullied a lot as a kid.”

“You haven’t lost my trust, and I won’t ever betray you. Sounds like you had a rough go of it, growing up. Were you an only child, like me?”

“Well…” she pauses, unsure of how to answer the question, before deciding to go ahead and tell you straight “…there were plenty of other kids around, just none were related to me.”

“Oh, man.” You sigh. “You were a foster kid, huh?”

“Yes, yes I was. I don’t want to get into why, right now, but I was fine. I mean, two of the girls in the first home actually liked me, and by the time I got to my fourth at 16, I was best friends with a guy called Doug and we had been through a lot together; even insofar as trying a lot of things together.”

“Oh, no, woah, Erin. I don’t need to know about any of that!” you chuckle, shaking your head, eyes wide.

“Not _that_ , silly. More like my first alcoholic beverage at 14, my first cigarette, which I hated by the way, at 16, and he drove me around in his friend’s car, from time to time. It was nice, to get out of the house once in a while. Even if he was technically my brother, it was nice to just hang out with him and just be, ‘ _normal’_ I guess.” She air quotes normal.

You watch her as her face lights up and she recalls story after story of her and Doug and the mischief they used to get up to – such as his first fight and her coming to his rescue; it sounds like they were as thick as thieves and you savour this information. You’re enjoying the way she becomes animated, throwing her head back and laughing heartily, which, at one particular part, sends you also into a fit of laughter and the two of you, struggling to breathe, wipe happy tears from your eyes.

Dusk approaches quickly, and as it is Sunday, the phones have been silent for the majority of the day. “It always amuses me,” you say, suddenly calm and serious “how we very rarely get a call on a Sunday. It’s as if the apparitions, ghouls and ghosts know it’s the Sabbath, or the Holy Day, or whatever, and don’t want to participate in any hauntings, for fear of pissing off the living and their Gods.”

“You say that as if that’s something you believe in.” Erin says, furrowing her brow.

“Which part? The pissing off of the living, the lack of hauntings or religious beliefs?”

“The religious parts. Are you religious?”

“My family are. On paper, I’m Christian, but I’m not exactly a practicing one. I just live by my rules and don’t expect anybody to follow them. Unless, of course, it involves Proton Packs, Grenades, Shotguns, Pistols, or any other Proton-related equipment. And then I expect you to follow my rules to the letter, so you don’t end up bruised, maimed or worse, dead.”

“Well, ya, that’s understandable, Holtzy. Come along, it’s getting cold. And I have some apologising to do.”

“Oh, _really?!”_ you ask, seductively. She gets up and offers you a hand up, which you take. Pulling you to your feet, you both head inside, an arm around each other’s waist.

“So, another lover’s tiff sorted then?” Abby asks folding her arms. You both shrug and wander down the stairs, now linking arms.

“A healthy relationship requires some form of disagreement, but not so far as to cause pain, or strain, on the relationship. I learnt a few new things about Erin, and it was nice to hear her talk about her past.”

Abby looks over at Erin, who sighs. “I was a foster kid, don’t make it weird.” And with that she disappears to find Kevin for a coffee.

“Uhh, that’s new information. She always told me she lived with her Mom and Dad.” Abby said watching her leave.

“Maybe, that was just easier, yano?” Patty asks, placing her hands on her hips. “Maybe they’re like her adoptive parents?” she enquires, shrugging.

“Well, it certainly explains a lot of things, when we were growing up.” Abby says, looking between you and Patty.

“How’s your foot?” Patty asks, breaking the awkward silence.

“Yeah, fine, just a bit tender. Pro’ly bruised, but defo not broken.”

Patty cocks her head at you. “Be careful, Holtzy. Can’t be losing a foot now, especially your accelerating one; who else will ramp up the revs before slamming on the breaks and shooting us forward in our seats?” she asks, playfully taking the piss. You give her a gentle thump and saunter over to your locker, to extract yourself from the jumpsuit; you seem to have been wearing for the past week.

Ten minutes later, you emerge in your pine-green crop top and paint-splattered overalls; a favourite look of yours. You put your sunglasses and both goggles in their appropriate places and place your bottle-cap glasses on the top of your head. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Abby and Patty head to their lockers, but focus on Erin, following her with your eyes. She stops to tie her shoelace, and as she bends over, you start to underdress her in your mind. As you do so, you bite your bottom lip, holding your breath in the process.

You realise, as you stare at her behind, you are unequivocally in love with her and want to spend the rest of your life with her; it is evident that you have found _The One_ , but you feel it is too soon in your relationship to discuss that. So instead, you push the thought to the dark recesses of your mind, knowing full well that that will emerge when you least expect it to, and you won’t be able to contain your excitement, considering your Asperger’s brain and feeling the need to tell people exactly what it on your mind, whether it has been asked for, or not.

“Put your tongue away and wipe your mouth. You’re like a love-sick puppy.” Patty says. You realise that your tongue, literally has flopped out of your open mouth and you have begun to drool.

You pull it in sharpish and wipe away the saliva from the corners of your mouth and your chin. “And you can wipe that grin off your face.” You point at Erin who is smirking at you dribbling at her with excitement and lust.

She giggles at you and closes the gap between you pair. Patty points her index finger to the back of her throat, miming making herself sick and turns away as Erin’s wet lips leave sloppy kisses over your mouth and cheeks.

You pretend to gag at the moisture left behind, but are thinking of a million and one ways to get her to ask for your forgiveness, and vice versa. “Right, well I’ll be off and I’ll see you tomorrow, at 8am.”

“Why 8am?”

“It’s Monday, that’s our office hours?” you question rhetorically.

“Um, Holtzy baby, we normally meet at 9am.”

“Okay, well you can all meet at 9am, but I won’t be there until about half past.”

Abby furrows her brow, as she pulls on her waterproof coat. “Uh, you wanna tell us where you’ll be?”

“Dentist check-up at 9am. Downtown.” You say as you throw on your trench coat. You whip your Android phone out of the pocket and dial the number for the taxi company. You give the address of the Firehouse, followed by your address, before pausing. “Abby, Patty, wanna share?”

“Uh, yeah. But I’m going to my parents’ house.” Abby says, taking the phone off you and asking for a drop off at their place. Patty does the same for her Uncle’s place. She mutters something about needing to visit and hands the phone back to you.

“So yeah, that’s one trip and two extra drop-offs. Cheers, Michael.” You smile and hang up.

Kevin appears and you curse yourself for forgetting about it. “Kevin, buddy, how you getting home?”

“My brother is coming to get me in the next five minutes.”

You wind your neck in, in disbelief. “Y-y-you have a brother?”

“Yes, and a sister. He is called Quentin and she is called Danielle, but goes by Dani. He’s thirty nine, she is nineteen and I’m twenty-eight in six days.”

You stare at him wide eyed and turn to see the other three looking at him, with equally perplexed expressions.

“You’re only twent-seven?!” you splutter.

“Holy shit. Now don’t I feel like a fucking cougar?” Erin asks to nobody in particular.

“So _that’s_ how you’re so goddamn pretty.” Patty exclaims.

Abby stares at him, her eyes wandering over his body and baby-face. “My God, Kevin. Why didn’t you tell us before, especially since your birthday is coming up?”

“Well, I didn’t want to inconvenience you all. I’m sorry.”

Abby sighs and shakes her head. “Well, we’ve got to have a party.”

“Par-tay, for Ke-vin!” you emphasise, doing a silly little dance. As you finish, the doorbell rings.

“Ah, that’ll be Quentin, right on time. As always. See you tomorrow at 9am, ladies. He’s giving me a lift tomorrow, so I’ll definitely be in on time.”

“Makes a change.” You mutter under your breath. “Okay, bye, Kevin, have a good evening.” You say, in your normal tone of voice. You give a little wave as he heads out of the door.

“Byeee!” Erin calls and waves frantically. You punch her arm lightly.


	11. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: 
> 
> Violent car crash; described in detail. 
> 
> This chapter is short, feel free to skip it.

_**One week later** _

Now that the Ectomobile has been fixed and new hinges attached to the rear door, you take her out for a spin. It’s late and there’s a chill in the air; New York City is due for frost at around 3am, but as it is only 10pm, you don’t worry about the road conditions, although you are still careful at cornering.  
You drive around the City, playing the stereo at a reasonable volume and ignore the passers-by pointing and laughing; a far cry from a month ago where they were lighting up the office blocks across from your laboratory with I Heart GB. You drive past the various pubs and clubs, the bass reverberating through the concrete and hitting your ears before the songs do. As you drive a little further out, you decide to take the freeway and indicate right to join it from one of the many tower-block lined streets.  
You stop at a red light, before a box junction and prepare to drive again when the light turns green. As you approach the middle of the yellow hatched box, a blinding light fills the car, you turn to find the source and feel an unexplainable force slam into the side of your vehicle, sliding it about five foot, before the whole car rocks; tipping on its side and starting to roll repeatedly. As the car rolls on its side, you cannot tell which way is up, or which way is down, only that the air bag has deployed and the window is smashed where your head has penetrated the glass. You feel thick, hot blood trickle down the side of your face and vaguely hear screams, amidst the scraping and clanging of metal on metal as your car rolls and flips into another, sending that shooting forwards into a third. You briefly see the road below you as you flip upside down over the roof of a Mini, and then come crashing down the other side and side-swiping a lamppost, knocking it down and onto the underside of the Ectomobile. As the world stops lurching, you try to focus on your surroundings, everything colourless and blurry and then… darkness.

* * *

Garbled sounds echo around your head; disembodied voices creating loud, wordless noise. Flashlights sweep the area and one catches your face, creating black spots on your retinas. You cannot see from the light, or the crash, no matter how much you try and blink some colour into your eyes.  
A ringing starts – you cannot tell if it is your phone, or your ears fighting the outside world’s sounds, but it hurts and makes the already-distorted voices harder to identify. The nonsensical noises and voices make you feel sick and you retch a little. Your hearing, albeit containing discomforting ringing, works fine and your eyesight begins to receive colour; you know you have survived. As you lie there waiting for your sight to fully return, you notice the chill of the concrete seeping through your clothes and realise, the top half of your body is partially out of the ripped-off door, but your legs are trapped where the foot-well has crumpled under the excessive pressure.  
Now that your consciousness has returned to its full state, there is a wave of searing pain, rushing throughout your entire body and you can feel everything – the blood rushing at high velocity around your body, gravitating towards the exit points, where the various wounds lie (such as your head, left arm and shoulder), your nerves firing pain signals and the sudden rush of adrenaline, released from your brain, fighting to counteract the agonising pain in your limbs. Everything you can’t normally feel, as it happens so effortlessly, you can now feel as you lie there, in distress.  
Trying to sit up, to see what has happened, you find that the pain is almost unbearable and the injury pins you to the ground. Impulsively you scream and cry; even though no sound and no tears fall, you know you are crying in pain and sadness.  
You feel hands grappling at your legs, trying to free them and then you feel yourself being dragged out from under the car. The beige shirts of the New York Paramedics come into view and fear follows; fear of a serious injury. Perhaps more serious than what your body is telling you. Perhaps even a life or death situation.  
“She’s awake; let’s get her into the ambulance. Get her on the oxygen and the morphine and monitor her. This is a bad one, this condition needs to be controlled and I want her looked after.” A woman’s voice speaks with authority, but it is soft. It doesn’t match up, but you can tell this woman is in charge.  
A gruff male voice, which sounds tired and far older, fills your ears with counting. “One … two … three … and lift.” You feel your body suspended, momentarily held by several strong hands, before being placed back down on hard plastic – one of those restraining boards. Velcro straps close around your wrists and ankles and a thick, but soft, rubber casing is fitted around your neck to keep your head, neck and spine straight. It appears that there is more damage caused than what you first assumed.  
The man calls again and you’re raised further into the air and forward into the back of a waiting ambulance; which appeared within minutes after the car came to rest. Footsteps approach and the sound of hard-soled shoes clang on the metal surface of the ambulance’s flooring. Its doors thud shut; slammed with such violence that the compartment jolts as they come into contact with the doorframes.  
You lie there in moderate quiet for a good while, until the gentle humming and beeping of a machine fills the cabin and the front doors slam into their frames and the sirens are flicked on. The vibrations of the engine kick-starting emphasises your pain and shakes your bones. The beeping becomes sporadic for a few seconds whilst your limbs scream in pain and fire their rapid signals into the command centre of your brain. You try to cry out, but no sound emits from your cracked lips.  
The lady paramedic points towards your right-hand side and a younger male paramedic appears in view with a large and long needle. He taps it with his fingernail and squeezes out the air. The lady tells him to administer some high-strength morphine and then tells you that it will “Only sting a little bit.” Nothing like a bit of false reassurance to calm your overactive nerves fighting every bit of throbbing that comes with every jolt of the road surface.  
“Damn potholes.” The guy says and then curses under his breath. He wipes your inside-elbow with some cold fluid, probably antiseptic, and slowly pushes the needle head into your soft skin. The liquid enters your veins and begins travelling with the blood and plasma. You have just come round and now you’re being put under deliberately? Make sure the victim is awake before moving them, only to knock them out again when the timing is deemed acceptable. You have so many questions, but don’t have the time to ask any of them. As you whisper incoherently into the air, the darkness, once again, consumes you.


	12. Chapter 10

The sound of beeping and Darth Vader-like breathing fills the air and seeps into your ears. You open your eyes and are immediately blinded by fluorescent ceiling bar-lights. You shut them again, and reopen them slowly. A flowy white overcoat moves in the corner of your eye, before a Doctor, complete with stethoscope around his neck, appears at the foot of your bed. He checks the notes attached to the clipboard, before clicking his tongue and checking the monitor to the right of you.

“Hmm…” he says, and then writes something down. He takes one last look at you and disappears without so much of a _hello._

The door creaks open and you see the shoulder-length red hair tied up in a ponytail, as Erin pokes her head around the door. She sees that you’re awake and treads softly into the room. She perches on the end of your bed and you pat the space next to you. She shuffles up to where you’re patting and lays back, resting her head, gently on your shoulder. You wince, so she lowers herself and rests her head on your left breast. Without looking at you, she asks if you’re alright.

“I am fine, thanks, but I would be happier if my girlfriend would just look at me.” You say, pulling your left arm around her side and holding her closely. You feel Erin exhale before she props herself up on to her elbow and looks at you. You have a large bandage covering the wound on your head and there are cuts and bruises all over your face and neck; your left eye being heavily bruised and swollen shut. Your bottom lip is swollen and there are teeth marks from where you bit a chunk of flesh, but you are still the same Holtzmann beneath all the horror. Erin cries at your injured face and you painfully kiss the top of her head.

“Hey now, stop that. I’m fine. I can still see and I don’t think it’s _that_ bad, is it?”

Erin takes out her phone and takes a photograph of your face. Turning the screen to you, you gasp as you see the heavily bruised and swollen face before you. “Fuck. It _is that bad!_ ”

Just then the door to your room opens and the same male Doctor arrives. “Ah, good, you’re awake.”

“Well, I was awake earlier, when you walked in, _hmm’d_ and walked out again.”

“My apologies, Ms Holtzmann.”

“ _Doctor.”_ Erin stresses. “Doctor Holtzmann.”

“Ah, my apologies again, _Doctor_ Holtzmann. I just came to see how you were and to tell you that you face will heal in a matter of days and that there should be minimal scarring. We will have to take a look at your head trauma, but when we brought you in, it appeared that there wasn’t too much damage, and no immediate signs of concussion, but I would like to check to see if there are any bleeds on the brain, or memory loss. With your permission of course.”

“I’m to go under again? So first I have a car crash and I’m knocked out, then you inject me with morphine and I’m knocked out and now you want to knock me out, for a third time, to examine my head! Why don’t you just leave me in a coma!” you snap, folding your arms and trying to ignore the pain. Erin shushes you and pats your arm, mouthing an apology at Doctor Mullins (according to his name badge)

“We’re not intending to do it straight away, we’d like to monitor you naturally first and then take you in for an examination tomorrow, when the MRI Doctor is in. It shouldn’t take too long, but we’d like to keep you in overnight and again after the scan. You don’t have anywhere to be, do you, Doctor?”

“Depends on when the ghosts come a-calling!”

“I beg your pardon?”

“We’re Conductors of the Metaphysical Examination, particle physicists and scientists and we specialise in supernatural occurrences, including ethereal hauntings, ranging from a Class I to a Class VII apparition; mostly dealing with Classes III, IV and V, but occasionally the latter. It is a full time job and requires us to be alert and all four of us present at any one time.”

“Okay, from that, I understood hauntings. So what, you’re paranormal experts?”

“Erin, stop.” You say, just as Erin opens her mouth to launch into another complicated explanation. “We’re two quarters of the Ghostbusters.” You say, coughing as you sit up.

“Holy shit!” the Doctor suddenly exclaims. “You’re the Ghostbusters?! Oh man, my son loves you. You’re the ones who saved the City a month ago, from that weird guy, with the giant hole in the ground?”

“The giant portal between our world and the Ghostworld, yes.” You say, grinning widely. “Yes, that was us. Me, Erin here, Abby and Patty, saved New York and we are still busy stopping these ghosts. Thankfully, nothing as bad as what Rowan created has happened again, but there’s always someone ringing about a haunting. Or there’s the occasional person ringing to see if we’re Mediums and wouldn’t mind contacting their dear old Aunt Mabel from the other side. We’re not, by the way. We trap ghosts and send them elsewhere; I have a feeling my new Ghost Trap, which actually resembles a bear trap, but with hollow lasers, transports them to Michigan.”

“Nobody likes Michigan, that’s okay.” Doctor Mullins chuckles. He signs a small note and hands it to you. “This is just to state that we might have to do an MRI scan and that you consent to it happening. You can read it in full, if you so wish.”

You take it and skim read the document, before handing it to Erin, who studies it meticulously. “Yes, this seems alright to me, yeah, go ahead and sign it, my love.”

“Dr Holtzmann…” Doctor Mullins begins.

“Holtzmann will do.” You interrupt.

“ _Holtzmann_ , we need to alert your next of kin to this accident and that you will need an MRI scan. We have it written down on your medical records as a Mrs Julie Holtzmann. Does this still stand?”

“Nope, I need you to change my next of kin. My Mother and I don’t talk.”

“Well, I am sorry to hear that. Who shall we say is your next of kin?”

You gesture to Erin with an open palm. You’re looking at her – Dr Erin Gilbert, PhD. Former lecturer at Columbia University, particle physicist and Ghostbuster. Oh, and she’s my partner, both in the workplace and in general.”

The Doctor nods, but says nothing for a few seconds. “Very well, I shall indeed update your medical records if Dr Gilbert is to be your next of kin.”

“She is. I would like that on all records that Dr Gilbert is my next of kin.”

Erin smirks at you and you smile back. The Doctor notices this exchange and clears his throat. “I shall leave you to, er, catch up.” He puts the now signed document on the clipboard at the end of the bed and leaves the room. Erin checks to see that the blinds on the hall side are drawn, before straddling you.

“What are you doing? Babe! We can’t have sex here. We’re in a hospital. And this machine will skyrocket if my heart beats too fast and then all the Doctors will come running, and how embarrassing will it be to have them burst in on us, midway through?! I’d die. Literally.”

“Noooo, you can’t die, Holtzy. I’d die without you.” She kisses you tenderly, but you, ignoring the cuts on your face, kiss her harder and more passionately, biting her lower lip and making her moan with pleasure again.

“No, no, Holtzy, stop. You said we can’t do it here.”

“I just wanna kiss you, dang it!”

“Oh, carry on then.”

You do as you’re told when suddenly there is a polite knock on the door. You stop making out with Erin and suspect that it is either Abby or Patty who have come to give you well wishes. Erin gets off you and walks around the bed, to the chair, at the opposite wall. She sits down and you press the button at the side of your bed which automatically puts you in a sitting positon. “Come in.” you call, acting as though nothing out of the ordinary has happened.

The door opens and a tallish lady with greying brown hair enters, carrying a large bouquet of flowers, which conveniently hides her face, with a card and a box of chocolates under her arm. You are rather suspicious of this person, so you watch her carefully. She turns away from you and sets the flowers on the table, before turning, offering the chocolates and cards as she does so.

“Mom?! What are you doing here?!”

* * *

She perches herself on the end of the bed, without an invitation and touches your leg under the sheets. This is an uncomfortable feeling for you and you try to wriggle it free.

“I came to see you, puddin’.” She says hoarsely. It is evident that she still smokes twenty a day.

“Mom, I haven’t seen you since I was in my 20s. Why are you here now? How did you know I was here? More importantly, _why?_ ” you ask, temper rising in your voice.

“Cool it, Jillian.” She says, giving you _the look_ that you received almost daily as a child. “I was on my way to visit you, in your new office, and I witnessed the car crash. I thought it was awful that that could have happened to someone, and then I saw you being carted off in an ambulance, and I couldn’t believe my eyes; couldn’t believe it was my darling Jillian. So I tried to call your Father, and no answer from his phone, as per usual. I know you don’t want me to be here, but I had to see you were alright, pumpkin.” The overly sweet manner in which she is speaking and the grossly affectionate pet names makes your head reel and you right eye begins twitching. She doesn’t notice and leans in for a hug. You awkwardly reciprocate it, patting her over zealously on the back.

“Well, I’m fine and dandy. You can see that for yourself. Okay, thanks for stopping by.”

“Well, hey now…” she says in a drawl. “Aren’t you going to introduce me to this fine lady?”

You suck air in through your teeth and exhaling deeply. “This is Dr Erin Gilbert. Former lecturer at Columbia University. She and I work together.”

“It’s a pleasure.” Your Mother says, trying to sound pleasant, but you can see her wrinkling up her nose, because you can tell she is trying to work out whether you two are an item. She gets up from the bed and walks round to Erin, proffering a hand to her, which Erin reluctantly takes. They shake hands, and part.

“Oh and as much as you _hate_ me for this. And hate the person I’ve apparently become, stating, on numerous occasions that _“This is just a phase Jillian, you’ll grow out of it.”_ I can assure you, that this is _not_ a phase, and I am still a lesbian and Erin is my girlfriend.” Your Mother bristles and the words _lesbian_ and _girlfriend_. “I don’t want your approval or acceptance. Hell, I don’t even want you here. I just need you to know that she and I are together and that she is the one.” You say, without thinking. Blushing as you register what you have said. You feel your cheeks burning as your Mother stares at you horrified.

“Well, if that’s the _lifestyle_ you choose, then I shall bid you adieu.”

“Mom, we haven’t spoken in 11 years, what makes you think I actually give a fuck about what you have to say?! I didn’t give a shit when you threw a Bible at my head at aged 10, when I first came out, when I first told you I was gay and liked girls. You adamantly proselytised about how _“God hates faggots”_ and that I would _“Burn in Hell for this shit.”_ And numerous other things I shan’t repeat, but it _really fucking hurt_ hearing that from your own Mother. In an environment that was supposed to be nurturing and calm, not toxic and hostile. This, this is why I cut you off. That and you threw a lamp at me for telling you that I have Asperger’s. Remember that, Mom? It missed me and shattered on the wall, and then you screamed at me, blaming me for breaking your goddamn duck lamp. Who the hell has a _duck lamp_? What are you, 90? You were so _against_ me being gay and being special needs, claiming you should never have got me vaccinated and that was the root cause of my _“diseases”_ and that therapy and fucking _exorcism_ would be the answer to all of your problems, when actually all you needed to do was love me, support me, and be my fucking Mother. But no, you couldn’t even do that, could you? You’re just the same old bitch that you always were, and I’m so thankful that I have nothing more to do with you. Because you know why? You _really_ wanna know why, Mom?! Because you were an absolute cunt to me growing up and I am so fucking mad, that you have just made me say that. I _hate_ that word, but right now, it’s literally the only thing which describes you.” You stop and breathe, hearing the heart monitor beeping rapidly and excessively and hear footsteps running down the corridor.

Doctor Mullins and two nurses burst through the door and rush over to find you breathing heavily; sweat on your brow, cheeks flushed red and hands clenched in fists of rage. “Doctor Holtzmann, what’s going on?”

“ _Doctor?_ Pah!” your Mother scoffs. “The only Doctor you’ll ever be is a Doctor of Make Believe.”

You clench your jaw tightly, and Erin is the one to break the silence. “Please can we escort Mrs Holtzmann from Dr Holtzmann’s room?” she says pointing at your Mother.

Your remains seated, defiantly, and perches her handbag onto her lap, clasping the top of it tightly. “Oh, no, I’m not going anywhere, sweetie.” She replies, falsely sweet.

“OhmyGod! Mom! Get out! I don’t want you here. I’ve never wanted you here. I haven’t wanted you in my life for the past 11 years, what makes you think I _suddenly_ want you around now that I’ve had a car crash?!”

She scoffs again and doesn’t move.

“I swear to God the Father, God the Son and God the Holy Spirit, if you do not get your ass out of that seat, I-I…” you stop speaking, having too many witnesses in the room. “Doctor Mullins, get security, please.” You breathe heavily out of your nose, and clench your jaw again. Growling from deep within you glare at your Mother and then look to Erin for help.

“I’ll go and get security, babe.” She says brightly, before swiftly exiting the room.

Minutes later Erin returns with a burly security guard and points at your Mother. “She needs to go, sir.”

“Ma’am, you need to come with me. You need to git up, an’ git out of this hospital, before I call the po-lice.” He says, with a strong Tennessean accent.

“Very well, I’m sure there is no need to call the police, but if that’s how Jillian wants it, then that is how it shall be. Oh, and darling? Consider yourself cut out of the will. You will not inherit a penny from me, or your Father. I shall make sure of that!” She bristles again and folds her off-white trench coat over her arm, slinging her crocodile skin handbag over her shoulder.

“Whatever, Mom. Dad was always the semi-decent one; when he wasn’t as drunk as a skunk, that is. He respects me for who I am, even if he doesn’t understand the Asperger’s, he actually makes an effort, unlike you.”

She leaves, as the security guard places a hand on her upper arm and guides her out of the door. The hospital staff looks between each other, you and Erin, and decide that no other course of action needs to be taken and briskly leave the room, shutting it behind them.

“Urrrgh” you sigh. “I hate feeling all vulnerable like this. I really wanted to punch her in her smug fucking face, Erin.”

She comes over to comfort you. “I know, baby, but you handled that well.”

“Honey, no I didn’t. I dredged up the past to make her feel guilty, but in turn, I have only succeeded in making myself feel guilty for mentioning it; and in front of you no less.”

“Sweetie, don’t worry about that now, okay? Just tell me more about how I’m _The One.”_

“Aw, fuck. I was going to save that for further down the line, maybe years down the line, if you can handle me for that long!”

“I’ve handled you for almost two years now, I’m sure a few more years won’t be any different. Do you really think I am _The One,_ Holtz?”

Suddenly you go shy and avoid eye contact. “Y-ye-yes, I do. I _really_ do, Erin. I don’t know about you, but for me it was love at first sight. Remember when I said “ _I want to be with you for as long as we are able”_ , well I meant it. I want nothing more than to spend the rest of my life with you, but don’t let me pressure you into anything. We’ll see what happens in the future, and go from there. Let’s just take one day at a time, and just be together and enjoy this honeymoon stage, whilst it lasts; before you start knocking me over the head with a shovel, and driving my half-beaten ass to a cliff.”

“Holtzmann, stop. Don’t talk like that. You know how much I love you and this will work, I promise you. I don’t want you to ever say stuff like that, joking or not. And I want to be with you for as long as we are able as well.”

“Okay good. Now, I would ideally like to get out of this hospital so I can take you home and made you beg for my forgiveness from earlier, but dang it, I’m stuck here.” You say, scowling at the heart rate monitor and noticing, for the first time, the drip in your arm. “When did this get here?” you ask, suddenly drowsy. “Ooh, shit, my head. I feel lightheaded, Erin. Ooh, shit, I think that’s anaesthetic. Why though, why anaesthetic? Noooo!” You let out a strangled noise and flop back into the pillow, knocked out, for the third time that day. Erin places a kiss on your forehead and leaves to go get coffee and some food.

* * *

When you come round again, the sky is a pale grey-blue and you can tell that dawn has just arrived. You shiver in the cool morning air, the duvet having fallen off you as you slept. You look about the darkened room, and locate the sleeping body on the chair to your right. You assume it’s Erin and whisper her name into the darkness. “Erin, baby, is that you?”

“Um, sorry, baby girl, it’s me, Patty.” She says yawning loudly.

“Hi, you okay?”

“Me? Yeah, I’m fine. How’re you doing, poppet?”

You chuckle and watch her rise from her seat. “Yeah, I’m alright thanks. What’re you doing here?”

Patty crosses the room in as much as five steps and arrives at the end of the bed. “May I?” she asks, you nod. She sits and turns to face you. “Erin told us you were here, she wanted to stay all night to see if you were okay, but I told her to go home. Abby will be in around 8am, but she said she’ll rearrange your dental appointment first. And how Erin knew was because the last person you dialled was Erin, so the hospital rang her first and foremost.”

You look at her, bemused. “Um, okay, but how did they get into my phone? I have a passcode and a thumbprint.”

“They said something about getting your thumbprint in the ambulance.”

“Ohhh, so that’s what that cold thing under my thumb was. Haha, I was so out of it, I didn’t even register that it was my phone. How silly of me? How long have I been out for?”

“A few hours, I came around 3am as Erin text me to say she was falling asleep in reception. She had been here since you were brought it around 11pm. It’s about 6am now, but it was hard work trying to get Erin to leave your side. She’s hooked on you, yano.” You smile in the darkness. “I can tell you’re grinning Holtzy.”

“Yeah, well I kinda blurted out that I think she’s _The One_ and then felt super embarrassed about it, like maybe I shouldn’t have said that, but she didn’t seem to mind and said she wanted us to be together for as long as we are able.”

Patty pats your leg, and then turns the bedside lamp on. “I knew it, girl, you two is meant to be. I could tell by the way you were flirting and her acting all sheepish about it; like we wouldn’t know that she was enjoying it. And we know what you two did before meeting us at the pub.” Patty sighs, smirking at you.

You feel your cheeks flush. “And, what was that, Patty?” you ask, highly embarrassed.

“You both had the “ _I just had sex”_ look on your face. It was so obvious. I’m good at reading people, yano.”

“Oh Jesus Christ, was it really that obvious?”

Patty chuckles softly. “I’ve seen that look a fair few times to know it down pat, so yeah, to me it was obvious. To Abby? I’m not so sure.”

You roll over in the bed, so your back is to her and so she cannot see your cheeks going a deep shade of scarlet. “I’m never showing my face again. Tell Erin I love her, but that I’ve died of embarrassment.”

“Holtzy, you’re acting like a damn teenager, you’re what thirty-something and you’re _embarrassed_ about having sex with your girlfriend. Why is that?”

“34 and I’m _embarrassed_ that you know. Like I wasn’t gonna tell anybody that that’s what we get up to!”

“Honey, you can’t go through a whole relationship without your friends finding some deep, dark shit out about you, or them. It’s just the rules. Yano the age-old saying of “ _bros before hoes”_ ; yah we’re gonna know before you tell us. You can’t keep anything from us Holtzy, least of all me; I’ll work it out waaaay before you even tell me. So what was she like?”

“Oh gawd! I’m not having this discussion with you Patty, it’s inappr- she was amazing. Dead nervous with it being her first time with a gal, but I showed her some stuff first, and it was awesome; she worked me real good. Until I passed out that is.”

Patty throws her head back and laughs deeply. “Oh man, you passed out?! How in the Hell does that happen?”

“Lack of oxygen, you know how science works; Biology, Chemistry. Chemical imbalance, lack of oxygen to the brain, causes a black out.”

“What she do, strangle you?”

“No, no, that would have been easier. And anyway, if you were to be strangled, you have to do it from the sides of the neck to create momentary blood loss, which is where the ecstasy comes from, but not too much to cause a brain haemorrhage. Don’t do it across the windpipe, as you’re more likely to cause asphyxiation and actually kill them and then you’ll be done for murder or manslaughter, I can’t exactly remember which, but you’ll be arrested and probably locked up for 25 to life. So if you’re gonna choke your girl, do it gently from the sides and when they say stop, you bloody well stop.”

“Sounds like you know a thing or two about choking, Holtzy.”

You clear your throat, still with your back to her. “Yeah, well, I, er, I read a lot of lesbian stories and, er, fanfics, and I, erm, yeah, it’s happened to me, be-before Erin, and so, I, er, yeah, I know a thing or two.”

“Wooooow! OhmyGod. Really?! Jesus, Holtzy. I wanna know everything.”

“No, no, no, no, no, nope, nope, noooope, noooo. You’re not gonna know, cos if I tell you, you’ll tell Abby and Abby will tell Erin and she’ll have a go at me and so, it’s just better, if I _don’t_ tell you.” You reply, awkwardly, harking back to the night at summer camp in your mind.

“Suit yerself, baby girl. I’ll go get some coffee, want some?”

“If I’m allowed to, then yeah. Just make sure this thing doesn’t record the heart palpitations… or rather, _give_ me heart palpitations.”

Patty looks at you in confusion. “Coffee gives you heart palpitations? Why’d you drink the stuff?”

You sigh. “No, it doesn’t, but I don’t know what this machine’ll do when there’s coffee involved. It might think I’m having a rapid pulse and set off again.”

Patty gets off the bed and heads towards the door. “Okay, yeah, makes sense. Let me go see about that coffee.”

Soon you drift off into another sleep and when Patty returns, she places the coffee on the side table and pulls the duvet around you. She kisses your forehead and sits in the corner, watching you from afar.


	13. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this at 3 A.M. 
> 
> I'm not sure if I still want this in the final edit. So, please be honest if it works, or if it's too random, and needs to be taken out.

You wake up to a quiet and dark room, having slept through most of the day, you are unaware of the time, but you are aware of the fact that you are here alone. Patty had gone home hours ago and when Abby arrived, you were still out. The Doctors had performed an MRI scan, whilst you were under the general anaesthetic and concluded that there was nothing serious and that you were able to go home. It is now the witching hour of Wednesday morning and you have been in the hospital since the early hours of Monday morning.

You roll over and stare up at the ceiling, you have a pounding headache and you can hear the steady beeping of the heart rate monitor and the slow dripping of the IV as the liquid leaves the bag and drips into the tube, which is fed into your inner elbow.

The door quietly creaks open and a young female nurse enters, she nears the end of your bed and you open your mouth to speak. “Hello” you croak.

The nurse is startled and jumps a little “Oh, hello. I’m sorry, did I wake you up?”

You shake your head and clear your throat, although no use it did. “No, I woke up anyway. I have a pounding headache. Do you have any Paracetamol, or Aspirin?”

“I’ll go and fetch you some Advil from the nurses’ station. I shan’t be long.” And with that, she disappears again, but leaves the door open ajar.

As you settle back into the pillow, the light from the corridor suddenly gets intense and you assume that the nurse is back already. “Well, that was quick.” You say, sitting up cautiously. There is no response, and this fills you with confusing and a slight worry. You look about to try and locate the other body in the dark, but there is nobody else there. _“How odd”_ you think and lie back down again. Just as you do so, a heavyset hand comes down and covers your mouth. You try to scream, but they block any soundwaves from escaping. You look about frantically and see a hulking figure looming over your bed clad head-to-toe in black and with a balaclava over their face to avoid detection. You force open your mouth to bite down on the callous-ridden skin, but suddenly your nose is pinched by the opposite hand and you’re now struggling to breathe. You flail your arms and legs, expecting the heart rate monitor to go insane, you force your head to the right, to look at the intruder, and notice the machine is off. _“Fucking bastard unplugged it.”_ You think, as you still lash around for oxygen. You feel your chest constricting and wonder if this is the end, but just before you black out for the fourth time in three days, the hand is removed from your nose and mouth and you gasp for air, only to immediately have them covered again with a soaked cloth that smells strong and sweet; you cannot tell what the substance is right away, but you have a sneaking suspicion that you’ve been drugged with chloroform. Your head reels and your stomach lurches, the smell and the pressure becoming so intense that you feel sick. The minutes tick by and you think you’re going to die, so you flail about one final time and then the room spins and blackens and you’re out cold again. 

* * *

You wake up shivering on a damp concrete floor. You’re in a small room, which looks no bigger than 4 foot by 4 foot. There is no window and the dim light above you is hanging off the cable in a rather precarious manner. The heavy iron door has been bolted shut and the only saving grace is a small hatch near the base of the door, presumably through where you will be fed. You roll over and discover that your hands are tied behind you; the plastic of the cable ties cutting into your flesh where they’ve been drawn too tight. Using all your strength you sit up and look about you – there’s no bed, no toilet and none of your personal effects are to be found; in fact you’re sitting there, in a damp, cold cell, naked. You shake your head trying to piece together the events of the night.

You begin talking to yourself, quietly for fear of being overhead. “ _I was in the hospital after a car crash and had woken up sometime during the night with a pounding headache; I asked a nurse for some pain relief and waited for her to return. In doing so, someone came into the room and stopped me from breathing before drugging me with chloroform and now you’re here in this cell, with no clothes, and, judging by these bruises, you’ve been beaten, for God knows what reason. How the hell do you get into these messes, Holtzmann?”_ You sigh and stare at the bruises covering the length of your legs and across your stomach. You dread to think what has happened, but you try to focus on the positive; the fact that you are actually still alive.

The sound of rattling keys outside the room suddenly fills the silence, and then a thud as the deadbolt slides across. The hinges squeak, and the iron door is wrenched open. You’re blinded by the incandescent light in the hallway – it is much brighter than the pitiful glow from the inside light. You blink a few times and see a burly figure hulking in the doorway. It takes a few minutes for your eyes to adjust and you see it is a man, around mid-40s, dressed in khaki cargo trousers and a Metallica t-shirt. He bangs on the door, which startles you. “Orite, princess?” he asks, with a thick Boston accent; a far cry away from the New York accent. “Get up; we’re goin’ for a walk.”

“But I haven’t any clothes” you begin.

“Tough titties, love. You comin’ or am I gunna have to drag ya?”

You struggle to your feet; on account of the fact your hands are tied behind your back. As you get one knee on the floor and the other knee bent, with your foot on the ground, the man grabs your bicep and yanks you up, the strain it puts on your shoulder is hard to take and you cry out.

“Oi, quit yo’ whinin’ an’ get up!” he yells. He frog-marches you out into the brightly lit corridor and shove you down it to make you walk. You stumble forward, but don’t fall; regaining your balance you walk down the corridor with him pushing you in the small of your back now and again. You reach a gate and the man garbles something into his lapel radio; the white-painted iron gate clangs open and he shoves you inside. Once through, the gate slams shut and the sound reverberates off the walls. The man pushes you hard again and this time, you stumble too far forward and smash your knees onto the concrete floor, you wince and your eyes immediately water. He hauls you up and yells at you again. “Keep walkin’, ya bitch.” The pain is excruciating with every step and you feel tears sliding down your cheeks. You hate being vulnerable and right now, that is exactly what you are – naked, injured and vulnerable; in a unknown place, with a threatening man, and by the sounds of it, more like you – more _prisoners?_

As you walk, the voices become louder and louder and they begin to trigger you. You have a flashback to the restaurant and begin to panic. You stop dead; frozen in place and the man is less-than accommodating. He grabs your shoulders and spins you around, so you are facing each other. “I said _move_. Wha’ part of _move_ do you no’ understand?” He takes one look at you, and then draws his hand up; the back of his hand coming hard into contact with the side of your face. The force of the blow whips your head to one side and your body follows, knocking you to your feet. As you crash-land on the floor again, you hear the man roar with laughter. Feeling your face burning, you instinctively lick your lips and taste blood. As you lie there, helplessly, he brings his right foot up and backwards, before driving it straight into your side, knocking the wind out of you. His thick boots leave a mark immediately. You struggle to regain your breath and wonder if your ribs are broken; you also wonder why you are here and what you have done to deserve this abuse. He goes to kick you a second time, but as his foot draws back another man’s voice cuts through the silence.

“Craig! That is enough. We need her alive, dammit.” The man puts his foot down, and wrenches you up from the floor. You gasp in pain, but try not to let them know how much you hurt. A slender man, wearing a black three-piece suit with blue polka-dot cravat, strides towards you. He brandishes his cane at Craig and smooths down the collar of his white shirt.

“I’m sorry about that.” The tall man says, poking Craig in the chest with his cane. “He can be a little overzealous at times.” He places the cane on the floor, and takes off his bowler hat and places it over his heart. “You are probably wondering where you are and what you are doing here?” He speaks with a clipped Californian accent. “I will tell you all in good time, but for now, let us have a cup of coffee in my office. We have much to discuss you and I. Craig, go and make yourself useful and look after the boys in C Block.”

Craig mumbles dissatisfied under his breath, but nods his head. He sighs deeply and ambles off to the right of you. You watch him leave, before turning to the man again. He picks you up off the floor and cuts the zip-ties with a small blade. You go to thank him, but he shushes you; placing his index finger on your lips and adding a small amount of pressure. He sweeps away and urges you to follow him; you jog a little to match his elongated strides and shiver against the cold. He doesn’t offer you his jacket, but keeps on walking, the sound of his metal-tipped cane clicking on the floor. He hurries up some steps and through an oak door. You read the placard on the door:

**Office of the Chairman**

You head inside and look about the vast room with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves lining two walls. You take in the various painting and decorations adorning the wall, noting in particular a map of New York District, including a map of the Ley Lines. This fills you with curiosity and worriment, but you try not to think upon it. You step towards his desk, and notice the gold-plated name card at the front:

**C.E.O. Bryan Druitt**

He holds his hand out, indicating the high-backed leather chair across from his desk. You gingerly sit down and cross your hands in your lap; at this point, you’re not even ashamed that you are naked; you might as well take it in your stride.

“So, I am Bryan Druitt, as you saw from my name card. And you are Jillian Holtzmann. Yes, we know all about you.”

“ _Doctor.”_ You correct him.

“Pardon?” he says, a little annoyed.

“ _Doctor_ Jillian Holtzmann, PhD. Previously a professor at the Kenneth P. Higgins Institute, specialising in Nuclear Engineering, and Experimental Particle Physics.

“You, a scientist?” he scoffs. “That is a man’s job and no woman should ever take such a highly qualified position. A woman’s job is in the kitchen, making the man his dinner, or producing male offspring or on her knees. A woman has no purpose to head up such a fine institution; the students will, will, run amok. That is an absolute outrage!”

You bite your tongue and suck air over your teeth. It is evident from Bryan’s comment that he is a misogynist and as much as you want to drive home the importance of equality, and maybe throw a bit of feminism in his face, you sit quietly and suck in your cheeks before swallowing.

“But, no matter, we have come to discuss the finer things in life. Firstly, how do you like your coffee?”

“As black as your soul” you mutter.

“Sorry, I didn’t catch that.”

“I’ll take it black, please.” You grimace at him and lean back into the seat.

He presses a buzzer on an intercom and speaks into it. “Margaret, two coffees; one black and I’ll have my usual.” There is slight feedback and then silence.

Soon enough another wooden door, one you hadn’t noticed when you first walked in, opened and a petite black lady carrying a small silver tray enters. She places it on the desk and notices you sitting stripped-bare of your clothes. She straightens her back and widens her eyes. You catch her looking and see anguish in her hazel eyes. She smooths down the front of her wool green-checked skirt and affixes her pearl necklace. She contemplates giving you her blazer until Mr Druitt dismisses her abruptly.

“Vamoose, Margaret. Don’t give her pity. She should be doing a job of a woman, like you are. Now get out of my sight.” He waves his hand, and she bows a little before leaving.

 _“Misogynistic and racist. What else has this twat got up his sleeves?!”_ you think to yourself.

As if reading your mind, Mr Druitt speaks again, before taking a loud slurp of his coffee. “You are a lesbian, are you not, Dr Holtzmann?”

The candour of the question stuns you and you sit there, bemused, staring at him and his thin pencil moustache.

You scratch your head and reach for your coffee. Disregarding the conversation you take several mouthfuls of coffee, the bitterness matching his attitude. He glares at you and you set your mug down on a coaster. “I don’t see what that has got to do with anything.”

“This is an institute itself, Doctor” he sweeps his hands out to the side, indicating the room. “A correctional facility if you will. And it is our, nay, _my_ , duty, to cleanse the guests here and correct their vulgar, damaging and toxic attitudes and corrupt lifestyles. You are a new student and I shall be watching you closely. I shall be conducting a few _experiments_ of my own and I am positive that you will be top of the class.”

You swallow, trying to comprehend what he is saying, versus what he is meaning. You come to the conclusion that he is a rather sadistic and sinister man, still, quite possibly, living in the 1950s with his crazy ideas and his vision of the American Dream. You grab your mug again and drink deep.

“The men here are in for the same reasons you are, and some of them have been changed by a little _persuading_. Others, ironically, found Christ and gave up their wicked ways to become better humans. Thus, they have graduated from this programme and are living healthy and normal lives outside of here. Some are still rather insatiable and want to continue on in their ways, but I am hoping the introduction of a fine woman, such as yourself, can set them, and, incidentally, you, on the straight and narrow.”

You drop your coffee cup to the floor, where it shatters and sends hot coffee flying in all directions. Some of the dark brown liquid lands on your foot, but you are too enraged to take notice. “You expect me to sit here and let you talk absolute trash about how we need to _change_?! Am I to understand that you are homophobic to the highest degree, as well as misogynistic and racist?! I am _not_ your plaything, or these men’s plaything. I am not going to stand her and be bullied, abused, and quite possibly _raped_ for your gratification, because you have some sick, twisted vendetta against the homosexuals. What fucking world are you living in, where that, _that,_ is okay in the slightest?! We’re not in the fucking 50s! This is 20-fucking-16 and that shit, the shit that you’re spouting, is literally just that, it is _shit_. You have no power over me to be saying that bullshit. And if you don’t let me go, then I am calling the police.”

“SIT. BACK. DOWN. NOW!” Mr Druitt bellows. Reluctantly you do so. “Ah, but you see, I _do_ have power over you. I told you to sit and you sat.” he added, softening his tone and blowing air through his nose. You glare at him and feel his eyes boring into your soul. You drop your head and stare at your body, feeling, for the first time in a while, the cold air as it strokes your skin and makes the hairs stand up and goosebumps form across your limbs.

“The police will not come here, they will need boats and I have manned turrets 24/7. They will not infiltrate this base. This is one of the strongest prisons known to man. And _I_ have control over it. These inmates are some are the hardest criminals New York has ever seen. There are murderers, rapists, arsonists, burglars, thieves, serial killers and members of the Mafia, confined within these 150ft walls, with only one way in and out and one way off this island. Welcome, Dr Holtzmann, to ATTICA!” He shouts the name and you shudder. You could have ended up anywhere, but sod’s law, you end up in the worst prison in history, with no way out, no help, no clothes and no dignity. “Enjoy your stay!” he says before cackling maliciously. At that precise moment, Craig re-enters the office boisterously, and wrenches you out of the chair. He snaps at you to move before shoving you out the door. “Take _real good_ care of her, won’t you?” Bryan says just as the door is slammed shut.

You’re hauled down the corridor again and this time, Craig manhandles you in the direction of C Block. He mutters something about _“fresh meat”_ and being _“pawed at”_ but you try and ignore his comments. As you wander further into the belly of the prison, the jeers of male prisoners gets louder until you are right outside the main gate for the block. There is a loud buzzer and the door rattles open. Craig shoves you inside before clicking his fingers at a younger male guard. This one hands you a blanket, some clean underwear, a vest, hunter green jumpsuit and white sneakers. You take them graciously and cannot wait to get into some clothes, not only for warmth, but also for dignity. The guard takes you to your cell and you feel the eyes of twenty men of varying ages, builds and ethnicities staring at you as you follow the guard. You make a note that the heavy red doors each have a little window in the top, just about a hatch and you are thankful for at least some sort of privacy.

The guy looks to be in his twenties and seems very sheepish around you. He directs you to your cell and blushes as he takes sight of your backside. Quickly shutting the door, he locks you inside. In this cell there is a bed, a toilet and a sink, and the light works and isn’t hanging precariously. You quickly dress and put your thick grey wool blanket on top of the plastic mattress and sit down. It feels nice to be dressed and you inhale deeply. Lying on the bed you close your eyes and begin to drift off, before there is a loud banging on the door. You sit up abruptly and watch as the hatch is brought down. “Inmate?” the young man asks. “Are you dressed?” He sees you nod and closes the hatch. Moments later, the bolt slides back and the door swings open. He asks you to leave your cell and you comply. As you walk past him, he apologises in your ear, and then follows it up by saying _“You have a hot bod”_ you smirk and roll your eyes, before sitting on a bench and propping your elbows on the table. You feel the eyes in the back of your head and bite your lip, ignoring the desire to shout at them all.

Craig walks to in front of where you are all sat and reads out a list of jobs and names. “Laundry: Jillian Holtzmann, William Battersy, Anton Craig, David Jones, and Aaron Smith. Engineering: Frank Willard, Ethan Mess, Geraint Thomas, Gethin Winter, and Sam Jones. Cooking: Ryan Beth, Luke Davies, Benji Anthony, Mark Summers, Tom Collart, and Michael Fisher. Maintenance: Wilhelm Dupe, Nikolai Svenston, David Butters, Frank Samuels and last but not least, Alexandre Marcois.” As the men stand and line up at the door, you hang back to try and speak to the young guard. Craig notices you lingering and calls you out. “Holtzmann, do you have a problem? Do you _want_ there to be a problem?”

You shake your head. “I’m shit at laundry” you say, chuckling. “I’m actually an engineer, and I was wondering if I could maybe swap with someone who would, maybe, be better suited to laundry, because I don’t think I’ll be able to flourish there and I suppose we all want to work our hardest to maybe get out early, for, like, good behaviour, or whatever?”

“You’re an engineer?” a New York accent from amidst the crowd. “And engineer of what? Not making enough clothes for yourself?” This is met with a chorus of laughter.

You roll your eyes and sigh, contemplating whether to School him. You opt to do so. “Actually, I am a nuclear engineer, a particle physicist and a former lecturer at the Kenneth P. Higgins Institute. Prior to that I studied at MIT and gained my PhD in Physics, and more importantly Quantum Mechanics; therefore, you are in the presence of someone who holds a Doctorate and who has an IQ of 163. So, I beg you, _please_ try and tell me that I am not suitable to be working the job of an engineer. And, try and tell me that you lot…” you gesture to everyone in the room “…are brighter than me. I’ll wait.”

“Well, actually, I have a Masters in Musical Theory and Composure.” A small voice pipes up.

“Who said that?” Craig questions.

A small, tanned hand goes up. “Wilhelm Dupe, M.A.”

“And you are on what job detail?” you ask.

“Maintenance, ma’am.”

“Ma’am?” you chuckle “I like this guy, he’s polite. That’s more than I can say for you.” You point to Craig. “You, sir, are nothing but an abhorrent man, with little in the way of respect. And I require, nay _demand_ respect from all of you. You want your workforce to respect you? Hmm? Well how about a little respect towards them? Namely, in the form of _not_ beating a prisoner half to death, and _worse, laughing_ about it and also, not parading them around naked, for the gratification of yourself or the owner of this base and, to top it off, being so damn sexist and racist and, and this _really_ gets my goat, _homophobic_. Because you, Craig, are a most notable coward, an infinite and endless liar, an hourly promise breaker and the owner of no one good quality. Henry IV, Part 2. Read it and weep!” You say folding your arms and sitting back down. Everyone stares at you stunned and Craig glares at you once more. He sucks his teeth and growls in his throat, before also folding his arms and contemplating what you said.

“Fine, you’re on engineering, but you so much as _think_ about making anything nuclear and you’ll be given a shot and sent to The Shu, got it?”

“I can think about it, but I can’t do it, unless you own Hydrochloric Acid, Plutonium, Uranium, a Chromium, or Aluminium alloy, a Faraday Cage, 14 iron bolts, 12 wires, wire cutters, a spark plug, some motor oil, a 12amp battery, a couple of screwdrivers, nuts, bolts and screws, blowtorches and a hammer?” Craig stares at you perplexed and you notice a few more eyebrows rise around you. “No? Well, I didn’t think so. Now, haven’t we all got jobs to be doing? Oh, and not forgetting a Ghost Containment Unit to keep all of this in, such as an industrial sized tank, or, er, fridge-freezer, giant Thermos flask, or something of a similar nature.”

“Why would we have any of that in here? We’re in a prison, you nutcase!” a Russian voice asks. You turn to where the voice came from. “Nikolai Svenston pleased to meet you, Doctor. Besides, if there was any way to get Uranium or Plutonium into a prison, I would have done it by now, and blown out my escape route.”

“I’m not hearing this!” Craig says, anger rising in his voice. Holtzmann, Svenston, that’s a shot each; and another for insubordination, Holtzmann.”

“Insubordination? What the hell have I done to be defiant?”

“Arguing the toss about where you should be placed for job detail”

“Woah, woah, woah, hang on a minute. You _just_ said that I could be put on the engineering team, when the _fuck_ did that change?”

“You want a shot for language as well?”

“What’s changed your tune? You were fine a minute ago!”

“When you started talking about chemicals, tools and other forms of contraband; _that_ is when my “tune” changed. That’s three shots for you: One for discussing contraband, one for insubordination, including backchat, and one for language. Keep it clean in here, ladies.” Craig growls, scribbling something in a notepad

You scowl at him, but keep your trap shut. He grabs you by the shoulders and directs you to a line; incidentally the line for engineering, but he doesn’t let on. “Sam Jones, join your brother on laundry detail.”

A squat black man joins a taller black man and stands behind him, they do some secret handshake, similar in length and complexity as yours and Abby’s, before doing a “bro hug”. You’re shoved in the back of the line and when the klaxon sounds, you all march, in single file, towards the gates. Splitting off to the left and the right of the corridor, you follow the men in front to the right. You twist and turn down various corridors, until you reach a heavyset male guard, sitting on a stool, outside a wooden door. “What she doin’ here?” he asks in Bronx accent. “Ain’t never had a woman on the engineering team.”

Craig sighs and grabs your shoulders, directing you to the front. “She claims she is an engineer, but I’d keep a close eye, an _extremely close_ eye on this one; make sure she don’t start building no nuclear power stuff; she will kill us all. A mad scientist.” You roll your eyes and sigh quietly. This degrading tone and attitude is really starting to piss you off, but for fear of getting more shots and thrown into Solitary Confinement, you smile politely and shrug your shoulders.

The chubby guard stares at you and you make a mental note of his name badge – Hamburg. Perhaps you can get into his head and find out if there is any way off this island and back to civilisation; or at least any chance of making a phone call to let the Ghostbusters know that you’re safe. Hamburg opens the door and gestures for you all to step inside.

“Welcome to Hell.” He says, chuckling. He stares you down and you smile sarcastically at him, before standing behind a desk at the front of the “classroom.” Craig does a quick headcount before whispering in Hamburg’s ear, who nods in response and takes another long, hard look at you. You feel your right eye twitch in frustration, annoyance and tiredness. You rub your eyes and put your hands on your hips before sucking your bottom lip, letting it slowly drag across your teeth. You sniff and rub your thumb across your nostril in defiance. You watch as Hamburg flicks his thumb from the back of his front teeth, to the front, which is the gesture called _The Cutis_ and which basically means “fuck off”. You subtly shake your head and watch Craig leave, slamming the door behind him.


	14. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next few chapters, contains descriptions of violence.

Erin wakes with trepidation, anxiety looming over her, like a dark cloud above her head. She has an uneasy feeling that something bad has happened. She rolls over and checks her phone _04:36 Thursday 6 December 2018_. It has been three days since you were admitted to the hospital following a really bad car crash; you were lucky to be alive, but Erin senses there is something wrong, and calls the hospital.

“Yes, hi, I’m looking for Jillian Holtzmann. She should be in room 205. Yes, I’ll wait.” The minutes tick by slowly and Erin keeps checking the time on her phone … 04:38 … At 04:40, the receptionist speaks again … “What do you mean, _“She isn’t there”_? Well, where is she? Is she at home? Has she been discharged? Why wasn’t I informed ... what … I’m her _next of kin._ Well, _why_ wasn’t I informed? You’re _looking into it_ … well, you had better make it fast; otherwise I’m filing a complaint for negligence.” She hangs up the phone and paces back and forth her bedroom. At 05:00, Erin’s phone rings in her hand. She answers rapidly. “Yes, hello? CCTV footage; what for? Um, okay? _KIDNAPPED?!_ Are you taking the piss? Have you informed the police – No, never mind, I’ll do it. Thank you for your help. Yes, goodbye.” Erin rings the police and relays the information to the dispatch officer on the other end. She hears the keyboard clacking and begins pacing again. She gives the name of the hospital and both yours and her address; the Police tell Erin to go and check your address and tell her that they won’t write it up as a Missing Persons case, until all bases have been covered. “Okay, so you won’t write it up as a Missing Persons case, but what about a Kidnapping case? There’s CCTV evidence that she was kidnapped … right, no, I understand that … but there’s video evidence that she was taken unwillingly by a male figure dressed in black. I’m sure the Lenox Hill Hospital can give you the CCTV footage to prove my report. Okay, yes, that’s fine. Sorry, I’m just worried. She’s a very good friend of mine, and my partner. Alright, thanks.”

Erin hangs up again and speed-dials Abby. “Hello?” a groggy Abby asks.

“Sorry, Abby, I know it’s early but Holtzmann has gone missing. I woke up feeling uneasy, so I rang Lenox Hill and they said she wasn’t in her bed…”

“What? What do you mean _missing_?” Abby asks, suddenly awake.

“That’s exactly what I thought, but they checked the CCTV footage and they say she’s been… _kidnapped_.”

“What?! How the hell can they let this happen? Is there any indication as to who this person, or persons, are?”

“Nada. They say it was a tall, hefty man wearing black.”

“Bloody typical. Let me ring Patty – I can merge calls on this iPhone.”

Erin sits on the end of the bed, listening to the dial tone for Patty’s number and the click as the line connects. Patty is a bit more awake than what Abby was.

“Yo, Abby, what up girl?”

“Hey, Patty. Erin’s here too.”

“What up, Erin?”

“Um, not good. I don’t know how to tell you this –“

“Holtzmann’s missing; she’s been kidnapped.” Abby cuts in.

“Thanks, Abby.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Woah, woah, hold up. _Kidnapped?_ How the hell does that happen? Ain’t the hospital supposed to be watching her? That’s full-on negligence!”

“That’s exactly what I said” Erin says, frustrated. “We gotta go find her.”

“And save her pasty white ass!” Patty adds, before chuckling.

“And how do _you_ know the colour of her ass?”

Patty chuckles. “Holtzy’s white, bro, ain’t hard to imagine; she ain’t got a black ass, like me, otherwise, I’d be worried!”

“Okay, that’s a fair point. Let’s go save her dainty, perfectly shaped ass.” Erin says, wandering over to her walk-in closet. Abby and Patty groan. “I’m just gonna get dressed, ladies. Meet you at the lab in twenty?” She hears Abby and Patty murmur in agreement before hanging up the phone.

As soon as the phone has disconnected, Erin busies herself in getting ready. After showering, she re-enters the bedroom and quickly dries herself, before dropping the towel on the floor and standing in the full-length mirror, analysing her body. Her curves, her breasts, her shoulders and the bruise on the inside of her arm where she knocked it on the door handle. And the now-fading lovebite on her left breast, left by Holtzmann a week ago.

Erin dons a pair of jeans, a plain white t-shirt and Holtzmann’s MIT hoodie, which she zips all the way to the top. Tying her medium-length red hair into a ponytail, she checks herself out in the mirror again and notices, for the first time, she looks tired and the bags under her eyes are distinct. She considers applying light, natural-look makeup, to hide her tired eyes, but then realises that there’s little point, and she cannot be bothered.

Suddenly her phone rings. “Hello?”

“ _Hello.”_ A gruff male voice speaks, slightly muffled. “ _We have your daughter.”_

“My _daughter?_ But, I don’t have a daughter.”

The voice on the other end sounds frustrated. _“Then who the fuck just asked for chocolate milk and made us cut the crusts of her PB &J?!”_

“Oh, my God.” Erin says, covering her mouth in surprise.

_“What?!”_

“You have Holtz, my girlfriend.” She says, bemused. This is the first contact she has had with the kidnappers and as she opens her mouth to reply, the line disconnects. Erin quickly dials the police and tells them what had happened. She describes the male’s voice and reads back the number, which they failed to hide. The police run a trace on the number and it comes up as being registered with a Craig Dee. Erin hears the officer clicking away.

“We don’t have a location yet, but we’ll keep digging.” You hear the police officer barking orders and you hear someone yell something in the background along the lines of _“Change from Missing to Kidnapping. Go, now. Charlie, make that happen!”_

Erin nods her head and silently cries. Hanging up the phone, she texts Abby regarding the sandwich call and throws herself onto her bed.

Her phone rings again and she picks the Samsung up from beside her. Seeing the number is a private one, she hesitantly swipes to answer. “Hello?” she asks cautiously. There’s a crackle as the line connects and a tired voice, almost unrecognisable speaks on the other end, if it wasn’t for the pet name, Erin would have hung up.

_“Hey, Er-bear.”_

“Holtzy? Oh, my God! You’re alive! Halle- _fucking_ -lujah!” Erin practically screams down the phone. Holtzmann, a world away, takes the phone from her ear.

 _“Listen, listen, listen. Babe, listen. Shush a minute, would ya? Fucking hell, woman! Shurrup a minute!”_ Erin stops her incessant babbling and turns her attention to her partner. _“Fuck, babe, I have a headache and I need you to listen. Get a pen and a paper, and write this down. Go, now.”_ Erin fumbles around and Holtzmann impatiently taps on the phone booth wall.

“Right, got one.”

_“Does it work?”_

Erin scribbles in the corner and blue ink appears on the paper. “Yes, it works.”

_“Write this down. Alpha – Tango – Tango – Indigo – Charlie – Alpha. Also, write down. Delta – Romeo – Uniform – Indigo – Tango – Tango. Have you got that all written down?”_

“Uh, yes, babe, I do, but what does it all mean?”

_“Don’t worry about that. But make sure you call the flatfoots and the narks. Okay?”_

“Okay, but where are you?”

 _“Babe, I can’t. They’re – No, hey, gerroff! Hey! Hey! Don’t touch me. Come here, you little shit!_ _Oomph; urgh; huegh!”_ The sound of blows landing, and Holtzmann reacting to the punches and kicks is almost deafening in Erin’s ears. Then all she can hear is the beeping of the disconnected phone. Erin hangs up distraught and dials _911._ She speaks to the dispatcher, who patches her through to the police. She relays the information to them and describes the sounds she heard on the other end.

Before too long the police are around her apartment, for a face-to-face and to write down her accounts in person. Within ten minutes they have left again and Abby and Patty come bursting through the door.

“Okay, so what’s the plan?” Abby asks, before rushing to comfort Erin, who is about to fall to the floor.

“She’s in danger. She just rang me and told me where she is and I think she got found out. I think someone, or multiple someone’s, are abusing her. I heard punches landing and her crying out. We have to get to her, before it’s too late.”

“Well, where is she?”

“Attica. The police say it’s a maximum security prison and that we’d only be allowed in on visitation day. This, according to their records, isn’t until tomorrow. Detective Shanahan has told me to lay low. I can’t do it though, Abby. Knowing poor Holtzmann, is getting beaten, it’s, well, it’s breaking my heart and we’ve got to stop that. Somehow, we need to get in there tonight.”

“But it’s a max-pen, Er. How do you propose we get in?” Patty asks sitting on the armchair in the corner of Erin’s bedroom.

“I don’t know, but I’m scared that if we don’t get her out, she’s gonna die.”


	15. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry - more violence.

The world shifts as you, and the chair you’re tied to, comes crashing down on the concrete floor. Your head hits the floor and you’re momentarily blinded; black spots dancing in your vision, a searing pain burning through your skull. You’re wrenched up from the floor and the chair legs crash down as you’re pulled upright. Your head spins and your mouth is full of blood. Spitting it out, you look at it, seeing how much there is, before tipping your head over the broken arm of the chair and vomiting onto the floor. You vomit a second time and you hear someone order someone else to clean it up. Your head hurts and as you sit still and quiet, other parts of your body also hurt.

You notice the left side of your body hurts the most and you wonder if your ribs are broken. Blinking, as best you can, given the current circumstances, the various faces surrounding you swim into view. Your head lolls from side to side before dropping forwards.

“Hey. Hey!” a man’s voice breaks the silence. You just about hear him clicking his fingers, and your hair is grabbed from behind, your head tipped back in the process. Your right eyelid is pulled upwards, but you struggle to focus. You hear the clicking again and his voice. “Stay with us. Please, baby doll. Stay with us. We need to ask you a few more questions.” Just as your eyes roll into the back of your head, cold water is splashed into your face and suddenly you’re focused; pained, focused and awake.

“I’m up.” You slur.

“Welcome back, Jillian. We thought we lost you for a minute there. You with us?

“Hol’zmun.” You slur, sounding drunk. “I’m Hol’zmun. _Hol’zmun._ You repeat, trying to stress the word. Your mouth hurts as you say your name. Drawing your tongue around your mouth, you notice a tooth is cracked, possibly from a fist or an elbow. _“Well, that explains some of the blood.”_ You think.

“Okay, _Holtzmann._ So tell us, who were you on the phone to?”

“Mom.” You lie.

“And what did you tell your Mom?”

“To feed th’cat.” You cough, pain searing through your body. Your throat is dry, and your skin is caked in your blood, and probably someone else’s too. You’re handed a glass of water and you drink thirstily. “The cat needs to be fed. I haven’t fed him yet.” You continue lying.

“What were you saying about _narks_ then, Holtzmann?”

“I was telling her about the Paul Feig movie.” You say, gritting your teeth through the pain. “ _The Heat._ How they’re a couple of narks.”

“Fuck off, you’re lying.” A man growls in your ear. You hear the squeak of leather and feel a sting across your face as a leather belt is whipped into your jawbone. You cry out and real tears stream from your eyes. It comes a second time and you scream at them.

“FUUUCK!! Fuck you and you.” You say looking at Craig perched on the edge of the desk and then the one who whipped your face. You spit blood at him and it lands on his white trainer. He snarls and goes to whip you again.

“Enough!” Craig’s voice booms. “We need her alive, David.”

 _“Craig and David; Craig David.”_ You think, before quietly laughing to yourself.

“Now, tell me again, Holtzmann, before we _really_ hurt you. _Who_ did you ring and _what_ did you tell them?!” Craig says, placing a foot on the chair, in between your thighs and pushing slightly so you tip backwards a little.

You shake your head and figuratively bite your tongue. You’re defiant until the end, even as you and the chair and shoved halfway across the room and you tip back and crack your head on the concrete.

You hear a small crack and feel warmth as blood pools out of your fractured skull. Your left eye rolls into your head and your right eye struggles to gain vision. Before too long, your right eye also rolls into the back of your head and you’re unconscious again. As you lie there, Craig punches David in the face and instructs him to stop the bleeding from your head so that you don’t die.

* * *

Once more, you awaken to blurry vision and bright lights, with tubes in and out of your nose and a drip in your arm. You come to the conclusion you’re in the prison’s medical centre, but you cannot feel anything. A female Doctor, the only one, by the looks of things, is approaching your bed as your vision, once again, clears.

“Hey there, how are you feeling, Holtzmann?” she says in a kind voice.

You shrug your shoulders, in great effort. “Numb. I feel numb. Where am I? And who did you say I was?”

“Your name is Doctor Jillian Holtzmann and you are in the hospital wing of Attica Correctional Facility. You’re on an extremely high dose of morphine, on account of your fractured skull, three broken ribs, a dislocated finger and a broken nose. What _have_ you been doing to yourself?”

“I got into a fight.”

“With half of the facility?”

“Nope, with Craig David.”

“The singer?” the Doctor asks, perplexed.

“Oh. There should be an “ _and”_ in there. Craig _and_ David. The guards. Or whatever they are. _Wheee!_ ” you add as the morphine kicks in. You start giggling to yourself like a child and realise you’re becoming high off the morphine.

“Ah, let’s lower the dosage shall we?”

You shake your head violently, feeling nothing as you do so. “Nooooo-puh!” you say, emphasising the _p_. “No lower, thanks.”

The Doctor rolls her eyes. “Holtzmann, you’re becoming as high as a kite off this stuff and that really isn’t good for you. If we carry on at this dosage, you may end up having a morphine addiction and/or overdose.”

“Wait, where am I?” you ask, suddenly confused. The Doctor looks at you and she too looks confused. Without warning your expression changes to that of anger and you’re trying to rip the tubes out of your flesh.

“Woah, woah, calm down. Holtzmann, I’m trying to help you. Holtzmann, Holtzmann, stop. I’m one of the good guys. I think you have a concussion. Violence and anger are signs of one. As well as confusion.” She screams as you throw the table lamp at her. At the sound of her screams, there are footsteps in the corridor and Craig bursts through the door. He grabs you and tries to jab a needle of clear liquid into your bicep. You bite down on his hand and he lets out a roar of rage, before back-hand slapping you across the face. The Doctor rushes to the machines and lowers the dosage of your morphine, balancing it out. As she does so Craig pushes the needle into your neck and you grunt in pain. As he pushes down the plunger, the cold liquid enters your veins.

“I’m sedating you.” He says, calmly, an unusual tone of voice from the previous instances.

“You’re still a prick.” You spit, as you slip, this time, into sleep instead of unconsciousness. Around half an hour later, you awake and see the Doctor cowering in the corner. The broken lamp at her feet. Craig is sitting on a stool by the side of your bed.

“I’m sorry about that.” You say, gesturing to the lamp. “That was highly aggressive of me, and I apologise.”

“No harm, no foul. I did some tests whilst you were asleep and it appears you do have mild concussion. I am going to give you a prescription for strong pain relief to ease the migraines and to give you some relief from your injuries.”

Craig rises and you scowl at him, before flipping him off. He returns the middle finger at you, but approaches slowly.

“I’m sorry too.” He says, genuinely heartfelt. “I didn’t mean for things to get out of hand in the interrogation room. I didn’t mean to crack your skull. Look, don’t tell Druitt this, but you’re alright. I felt so bad when I saw the blood, that I actually got David to put his t-shirt under your head to stop you bleeding. We then wrapped it around your head and I carried you here. I’m sorry.” He offers a hand and you shake it, feebly. He frowns at you and you give a strong handshake. “I got myself in too deep. I’ve worked here for fifteen years and the arrogance has gotten to Druitt’s head. He never used to be like this. Since his wife cheated and left him, he’s become a misogynistic asshole. I go with it because of the pay, but after being manipulated into hurting you, I cannot do it anymore. I need to get out. Margaret is just as nice as you are, and I saw her writing her notice the other day; I think she’s determined to quit. After two months, and I says to her, I tell her, she’s making the right decision. I dunno about you Doc, but I think you need to quit too.” He says, looking towards the Doctor, still standing away from you. You beckon her over, and she approaches the end of your bed.

“The way he brought you in, I almost cried. You were one of the worst cases I’ve seen here and I’ve seen multiple guys coming in here, near dead, battered and bruised. But to see a _woman_ in this state, it’s heart-breaking to say the least. I’ve patched you up as best I can, given what we have based off the budget I’m given, but if we can get you topside, I suggest you go to a real hospital and get an MRI scan, check out that fracture, make sure it’s not going to give you any lasting damage.”

“I agree, and in the meantime, I leave you here and I’ll come back with a plan which’ll help you to escape. And I _promise_ , I will not rat you out. Here, take this.” He hands you an expensive-looking silver Chopard wristwatch. My wife gave it to me, so I’ll be needing it back. But you have it now and when I get you out, you give it to me. And if I don’t make it, give it to my wife. Her name is inscribed in the back. Here.” He pulls a dog-eared card from his inside pocket. “I used to be a window cleaner, before I wound up in here. This card has never left this pocket; it’s to remind me of who I used to be. That…” he points to the address on the back “…is my address. If I don’t get out of here alive, you go there. And you tell Maureen that I love her and that I saved you. _Don’t_ tell her I beat you; she’d never forgive me. Tell her I saved you, I got you out, and that I am sorry. And then give her the watch. Don’t say anything else. Just that and give her the watch and then leave, okay?” You nod, drinking in the information. He takes the card and the watch back off you and places it inside your prison uniform in one of the pockets. Patting it, he smiles at you with pity and takes off down the corridor.

You stare at the Doctor and she nods. “Craig’s a good man. What he did to you was inexcusable, but it was all an act. I believe him when he says he will get you out. If he didn’t hurt you, he would have been shot. If Druitt finds out he is helping you, it’ll be one bullet, to his head. So make sure you listen to him and if he tells you to run, then you run and don’t look back. I will be handing in my notice in a couple of days. I need my pay check first, and then I’ll quit.” And with that the Doctor disappears, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

In the silence you play back the last week and wonder why, out of 7.53 billion people in the world, why you were kidnapped and sent here. You hark back to your most recent conversations, and think if anyone has anything against you, to take umbrage with how you live your life and who you are. You cannot justify the reasoning behind this and put it down to unfortunate timing. You turn your mind to Erin and your arguments and you’re brought to tears, thinking how upset you made her feel on both occasions, and how you blew up at her over a simple misunderstanding. The tears sting your face and you’re reminded of the vulnerable state, in which you are in, and how this is the second time you have been made to feel vulnerable. You don't like this feeling, but now you are determined, more than ever to escape. You try to think of a plan of your own, but the drama and the abuse catches up with you and you drift, finally, into a peaceful sleep.

“Holtzmann, Holtzmann, wake up.” You’re shaken awake and Craig is peering over you, clad in black with a balaclava in his hand.

“Where did you get that?”

“We use these for riot practices. Some of the guards pretend to be rioters trying to break in, or pretend to be prisoners, and we have to practice taking them out. Here, put this on.” He hands you a smaller looking balaclava and you stare at it in your hands. “Oh, I managed to find you some dark clothes, so you can put those on. Don’t forget the things I’ve given you.”

Despite having already seen you naked, he turns and faces the opposite wall. You strip off the hospital gown and don the _Calvin Klein_ boxers – still warm from the dryer. Next you don a plain black t-shirt and, getting off the bed, pull up a baggy pair of dark grey joggers. You wander, barefoot, over to Craig and tap him on the shoulder.

“You look great, Holtzmann. I’m sorry those trousers are so big. They were the smallest size and I know you’re tiny.”

“They’ll do.”

“Oh, and, um, we don’t have any bras.” He says, staring at your tits in the tight-fitting top. You roll your eyes and he blushes. “Um, we might have a spare vest top somewhere.”

“It’s fine. I’m literally not even bothered. They’re small enough anyway, and stop blushing, you saw me naked for a whole day.”

“I did, yes, and I’m very sorry about that. It wasn’t my decision and I tried to argue against it, but Druitt threatened to kill my daughter if I didn’t cooperate.” You pat his shoulder and wander over to where your prison uniform is hanging up. You get out the watch and the calling card from the pockets and put them in your joggers.

“Um, won’t they be suspicious of an empty hospital bed and my uniform still hanging up?”

“I’ve already thought of that. What we do, is make it look like you’re sleeping here and then we just leave.”

“Right and how do you propose we do that?”

“Pillows, towels and there’s a blonde wig in the barbers shop.” You raise an eyebrow. “Yes, we have an on-site barbers shop. The men need to look good for visitation, or court dates or their release dates. Can’t be looking like, well, prisoners now, can they?”

You shrug. “No, I suppose not.” You pocket your balaclava and follow Craig outside.

“Shit, almost forgot. Here.” He throws you a burgundy hoodie and you put it on. “Fucking freezing outside, and you’ll freeze whatever tits you got.”

You lightly punch him on the arm and zip up your hoodie. “You’re still a prick, you know that right?”

“Yeah, I know. I’m sorry. I can’t tell you enough, and you probably won’t ever forgive me, but please, Jillian, please just trust me.”

“I do, now come on, let’s get the fuck out of here!”

“Not so fucking loud. You’re a fucking scientist, but you’re dumb as fuck right now.”  
“Bitch, I’ll have you know I’m a fucking genius. Fuck you very much. I have an IQ of 163.”

“And I don’t know mine, nor do I care. Let’s just move.” Craig replies shoving you forward in the small of your back.

“Oi.”

“Sorry, force of habit.” He replies, chuckling. You roll your eyes, but advance down the hospital corridor.

Tiptoeing forwards, Craig keeps an eye out for any of the other guards. Suddenly there a low voices in the corridor. He opens the door to the janitor’s closet and asks you to step inside. You oblige and he hands you his balaclava, before closing the door.

“Mark.” He says gruffly as the two men round the corner.

“Craig. Where you been, man?” Mark asks. He adjusts his glasses and folds his arms across his chest.

Craig sucks his teeth. “Just making sure our lil visitor was still breathin’. Proper did a number on her. Swear I nearly killed her, man.”

“Fuck you care for? What, you got feelings for her or summat?” Mark asks, roaring with laughter.

“Oh, yeah, cos I’m sure a lesbian wants to see my knob.”

Mark suddenly stops laughing. “What knob? Your dick is so tiny, that you’d turn every woman into a lesbian.”

Craig cocks his head and narrows his eyes. Inside the closet you shake your head. “My wife likes my cock, thank you. Don’t forget, Maureen and I have a daughter, so it must be good for something.” He adds, laughing. Mark punches him in the arm and joins in.

“Craig, is she alright then?” David asks, clearing his throat.

“Yeh, she’s fine. Cracked skull, but no brain damage. Fucking hell, imagine if I made her go from genius, to retard. Ooh, fuck. I couldn’t bear the thought.”

David pulls a face and places his hands on his hips. “You could lobotomise her?”

Craig glares at him and punches him, giving him a dead arm. “You motherfucker. We can’t lobotomise a fucking scientist. Bro! First of all, this ain’t the 1800s; second of all, we don’t have the equipment. And thirdly, what if she cures cancer or something?”

“Bit hard when she’s a vegetable.” David says toying with his shirt hem. Craig lashes out a second time and this time, his fist connects with David’s nose, breaking it. David cries out and clutches his nose, pouring with blood.

“You son of a bitch.” David splutters.

“Tip it forwards, you dick. She’s not gonna be a vegetable, so fuck off down this corridor, before I break your kneecaps.” Craig growls, lurching forwards, fist raised again. David and Mark scurry off down the corridor to find a bathroom or a nurse to sort the broken nose.

When the coast is clear, Craig opens the closet and beckons you out. You step out into the harsh light and blink a few times. “I’m sorry about that. Dave can be a right twat at times.”

“ _No shit_. You know I’m not a lesbian cos I had a bad boyfriend, I don’t like dick; I like pussy. That’s the truth of it. I’ve always been gay. Never had a crush on a boy, but I did on plenty of girls. So yeah, there’s that.”

“You know, without sounding rude, I don’t care that you’re gay, honey. You love who you wanna love and don’t let nobody tell you otherwise. You don’t owe anyone shit and you don’t owe anyone an apology or explanation. Fuck the haters. Maybe not _literally_ , but just fuck ‘em.”

You smile at him and pat his arm before the two of you disappear the way Mark and David came.

* * *

_Back in Erin’s apartment._

“So what we need to do is go to Attica under the cover of darkness and get her out whilst everyone is sleeping.” Erin says, starting to pace and wring her hands in front of her.

“Not to put a downer on this, but there will probably be armed night guards. It’s a maximum security prison, and I doubt anyone has ever attempted an escape, or a rescue before.” Patty says, putting a hand on Erin’s shoulder and stopping her from pacing.

“We _have_ to think of something.” Erin says, sitting down defeated. She folds her arms and frowns.

“Have you had any more mysterious sandwich calls, Erin?” Abby asks, notebook in her lap, pen poised over the paper.

“No, just that one. The police haven’t even got in touch to say where this Craig person is located.”

Abby scribbles down his name. “You don’t suppose he’s one of the guards at Attica, do you?” she asks, writing down the name of the prison and the word _guard_ with a question mark following.

“Well, that certainly is a possibility.” Erin sighs.

Patty checks Googles the prison and reads its Wikipedia page. As she begins to read aloud, Abby gets an alert on her phone. “Oh, man. Not again. We’ve got another Class VI. But we can’t do it without Holtz, can we?”

“Oh, man. Does that mean we have to get pretty-but-stupid Kevin involved? He gon’ kill us.”

“The three of us could just go?” Erin suggests, trying to take her mind off the catastrophe they’re all currently facing.

Abby sighs, considering including Kevin. “We could include Kevin, but put him in the car if it all goes wrong.”

“If shit hits the fan, I’m blaming him.” Patty says, shaking her head. “Come on, Erin, back to the lab we go.”

“But guys, it’s like 1am!”

“Even more reason to get going, whilst there’s no traffic.”

“Urgh, fiiine.”

Patty rubs her arm. “You sound just like Holtzy. Let’s go.”

* * *

The three of them arrive back in the lab and quickly dress in their ghost busting gear. Kevin emerges from the cloakroom. “Are you sure you want me to help?” he asks, with his slight Aussie twang.

“We don’t have a choice, so don’t eff up.” Erin says, authoritatively. Kevin nods and stands in the doorway.

Erin hands him her Proton Pack and explains how to use it before grabbing Holtzmann’s and putting it on her back. It’s too tight for her, considering Holtzmann’s small frame and her 5’3” height. Being only 2 inches shorter creates a whole lot of difference in the position of the straps. However, she knows how Holtzmann dislikes change, so she leaves the Pack as it is. Grabbing the Ghost Trap, Abby attaches it to the base of the Pack. Fastening the clasps, she pats Erin on the back, so she knows it’s all sorted. Erin nods and follows Kevin out the door, with Abby behind and Patty taking up the rear. The straps dig into Erin’s shoulders, but the pain matches her numb heart; heavy and difficult, but still pushing her forwards.

They arrive at the garage and stop dead. “Shit!” Erin suddenly says.

“What’s wrong, boss?” Kevin asks whirling around, gun on shoulders, and nearly knocking Erin on the head.

“First of all, you need to holster that gun. And second of all, we don’t have a car! Ecto-1A was written off, if you remember. Surprised she didn’t blow up with those gas canisters on the roof, to be honest. We can’t take Ecto-2, as that’s Kevin’s bike and we won’t all fit and we don’t have a 2B or 1C.”

“Or not 2B.” Kevin says, inappropriately quoting Shakespeare.

“I can’t with you, right now, pal.” Patty says, pulling her phone out of her pocket. She dials her Uncle and asks to borrow a hearse. Hanging her head, she sighs and hangs up. “No luck here, I’m sorry.”

“We’ll just have to take a cab to the New Amsterdam Theatre; or the subway.” Erin suggests, scuffing her boot on the garage floor. The others murmur in agreement and opt to take the subway, on account of the fact that 4 people and Proton Packs wouldn’t fit into one New York cab. They leave the Firehouse, with Abby locking up, and take off at pace towards the subway station.

“What time’s the last train, Patty?”

“They run all night.”

Dashing down the stairs at the subway station, Patty flashes her MetroCard and her MTA ID badge, which she conveniently had in her pocket at the guard in the ticket booth. He nods and opens the wheelchair barrier. The four of them dash through and towards the North-bound train line. Without too much of a wait, the train arrives and they all hop on. Ignoring the various looks from the passengers on the train, they all crowd in the centre; Packs still on their backs and ride the subway to the Downtown area.

On its arrival, they turn to face the left-hand door and wait for the doors to open. They step off and run towards the barriers. A security guard attempts to stop them, but Patty shouts at him. “MTA worker, they’re with me.”

“Aren’t you the Ghostbusters?” he asks. “Why’re you taking the subway?”

“Car’s trashed, now come on man, let us through. We got a Class V to apprehend.”

“Oh, woah sounds bad. Alright…” he checks Patty’s ID. “Patty Tolan. Hurry now.” She shoots him a look at the Ghostbusters run through the barriers and up the steps, taking them two at a time. Abby gets out her iPhone and checks the address. Erin gets her Samsung out and inputs the address into Google Maps. Directing them, they continue running down the street, weaving in between the crowds, which are starting to fill the streets. They take a left and then a right, taking a small alleyway, as a shortcut, then coming out the other side; they take another left and slow to a walk, panting for breath.

“How…far?” Kevin asks, trying to catch his breath; surprising for how much of a gym-body he has.

“Ten minutes. We can walk from here.” Erin says, gasping for breath and clutching her side. “Argh, stitch.” She says, whimpering.

They saunter to a house opposite the New Amsterdam Theatre and knock on the door. A middle-aged woman opens the door. “Freeeeed! The Ghostbusters are heeeeeere!” An older man appears in the doorway, down the hall, with a teatowel slung over his shoulder. He marches down it and pushes his wife aside.

“Come on, this way, it’s in the basement. Think it’s our grandson come back to haunt us. Not sure, but he’s angry. Real angry.”

The ladies, and Kevin, enter the house, Erin nodding in apology at the woman for being pushed out of the way. The man opens the door to the basement, just off the kitchen, and the Ghostbusters enter to the sound of roaring and shattering. The man nods at them and quickly disperses, shutting the door behind him.

“Gear up, ladies.” Abby says. “And Kevin.”

They all gear up, the low humming of the Proton Packs reverberating off the walls. “Hey there.” Erin says, as the phantom turns to face them. “NOW!”

They all press the red button on the small handle and the kick-back of the gun, rocks them on their heels. A red Proton Stream shoots out the end and wraps around the waist of the ghost. He roars and fights back.

“Keep the collateral to a minimum; we need this house to still be standing!” Abby yells over the sound of the Proton Stream and the phantom growling and snarling. With the apparition sufficiently weakened, Erin unstraps the Ghost Trap from the base of the Proton back, and feeling the weight in her hand, slings it forwards, away from them and onto the floor, where it drops with a _clang_. It’s a whole lot less of a fluid motion than what Holtzmann does, but it is smooth enough. Flicking the toggle switches on the Upper Arm Remote Trigger, it _bleeps_ , reading _PEDAL READY TO ACTIVATE_.

It automatically changes to _PEDAL ACTIVATED_ with a little picture of the Ghost Trap above the text _._ The pedal springs out of the Ghost Trap and towards Erin. Waiting for it to go green, Abby yells “Now!” And Erin stamps down, hard, on the pedal. The Ghost Trap _clangs_ open and a glowing white beam, emanates from the centre of the box in a cone shape. The combination of the streams and the pull of the Ghost Trap angers the ghost, but they guide it towards the trap, where it sucks it in. As it enters, the rounded doors slam shut and steam hisses out of the sides.

“Wow that was quick.” Kevin breathes.

“Thanks for helping, buddy.” Patty says.

Erin goes to hug Kevin, but halts and shakes his hand instead.

“Cheers, boss.” He says, smirking at the handshake. Erin picks up the trap and Abby reattaches it with the loose straps. They climb the stairs and leave the basement. The man appears from the kitchen and startles them.

“You all done down there?” he asks, wiping his brow and then his hands with the teatowel.

They all nod. He thanks them and they leave the house quietly. “Now about Holtz?” Erin asks. She checks her watch and sees it’s now 2am. “I think we need to get her out whilst it’s still dark, but not like this.” She says, pointing at the reflective strips on her jumpsuit.

“No, we need to go dark.” Patty says. “Kevin, buddy, we’re gonna need your muscles for this. We need to break Holtzmann out of prison; where she’s been kidnapped to. Think you can help?”

“Sure. I’ll give it a go, boss.”

Patty claps her hands and they set off back towards the subway station.

* * *

_Back in Attica prison._

You and Craig creep up the stairs, past the guards’ room and round a corner into a darkened corridor. You both keep a low profile and hunker down low as you pass each window and windowed door. Craig pushes the bar for a fire exit and you leave through it. He pushes it closed, hearing it click and indicates which direction you both should go in.

It is freezing outside and there’s a frost in the air. You shiver in the early morning air. For early December, it is surprising cold and before long, there are goosebumps along the length of your arms. You pull your hood up and blow hot air into your hands. You feel your nipples stiffen in the cold and instinctively cross your arms over your chest.

“ _Nipping?”_ Craig suddenly asks, whispering in the dark.

You give a nervous laughter and unfold your arms. You figure you don’t care, given the previous circumstances and nod.

“ _Sorry I don’t have a jacket, and I wasn’t expecting it to be so cold_.” He takes his phone out of his pocket and checks the time: 02:15am _._ “ _This way. We should probably get your things; you can’t walk across the floor barefoot for too long. Especially in this weather. We got them from the hospital; still in the hospital bag_.” He gestures towards a small hut a little way off and you crouch low, keeping to the shadows. He arrives at your side and grabs your shoulder, still whispering, he explains why. “ _No, don’t. There’s a spotlight. It sweeps around and that gap there…” he points in front of you “…will be lit up like the Rockefeller Centre Christmas Tree.” He says sternly. “We have to time it correctly. I’ll go first and you approach. When I put my hand up, you stop and when I beckon you, you move, but go quickly, so you’re not caught by surprise. Got it?”_

You nod and watch him step around and outside table-and-bench, keeping low. You watch the light sweep the area and see how much it lights up – a large area. It swings back around in your direction. “Get down!” Craig snaps, throwing himself flat on the floor. You copy him and breathe deeply. He slowly gets up in a crouching position and dashes across the yard. You edge forwards and he holds up a hand for you to stop. Pre-empting the beam, you lie flat on your stomach, feeling the cold seep through your clothes. It is mildly relaxing on your still-swollen face, but you lie there until the beam disappears. _“Jill.”_ Craig whispers. You get up and dash over the space. He ushers you up the wooden steps and he opens the office door inwards. You creep inside and he shuts the door, standing up in the process.

You do the same and he closes the blinds before switching on the desk lamp. Its small light illuminates the area around you and he wanders over to a box labelled _J. Holtsman_. You roll your eyes at the misspelling, but gratefully receive the box. Setting it on the desk, you rifle through it and pull out your bra, pine-green crop top and paint-splattered overalls. You sigh and strip off; dumping the clothes you’ve been loaned on to the floor. You root through the hospital bag in the box to find your underpants, but can’t find them, so opt to keep the heather grey CK boxers on. “Where are the pants I came in?”

“Um, you don’t wanna know. Fetish is all I’m gonna say.”

You stare wide-eyed at Craig and blink away the thought. Pulling the crop top over your head you pull it down as far as it goes before stepping in the legs of the overalls and wiggling it up your body. You fasten the straps and pull out your Wookie ankle socks. You put them on and sigh at the thought of warmer feet. You grab your _Screw-U_ necklace and clip that around your neck. You grab your red leather gloves out of the box and dump them on the desk, before grabbing your brown leather ankle-boots and slinging your blue trench coat over your arm. You sit down, heavily, at the desk and ram your left foot in your boot, dropping the coat to the floor. You straighten the tongue and zip it up. You repeat this on the other side. Standing up, you pick up the coat and thrust your left arm in the sleeve, before smoothly swinging it round the back of your head, where you put your right arm in the sleeve and you flick it up on to your shoulders. You shrug your shoulders until it falls in place. You sniff, lick your lips and put your gloves on. You nod, and Craig reciprocates it. He points to the door you came through. You put the box back before flicking off the desk lamp.

“We’ll have to do some more crouch-and-dash, okay, Holtz?”

You walk out the door and down the steps. “Yeah, that’s cool. Just don’t get us killed.”

“I’ll try not to. I’m not _that_ much of a jackass.”

“Humph. We’ll see.” You say, following him around the corner, slinking along the wall.

You follow the length of the building and see the 150ft barbed wire topped fence, with guard towers positioned at intervals along the perimeter, ahead of you. There’s another beam here and you hear the low growling of guard dogs.

“And _when_ exactly did you think about telling me there are guard dogs, Craig?”

“I didn’t want to scare you. They patrol the perimeter and right now are about 110 yards to your right, so we having to be pretty fucking quick and quiet. When I saw go, you fucking run, but stay low.”

You shudder at the thought of being caught by guard dogs. “Um, what breed are they?” You ask, full of trepidation.

“Only German Shepherds. Not Rottweilers or Pitbulls.”

“ _Only_?! They’re still trained to maim.”

“You’ll be fine, so long as we do this quick and quiet. There’s a hole in the fence, you’ll see it as you get close, but it’s down low on the ground and you’ll need to crawl through. There’s a dip in the mud, in the middle, but you’ll have to squeeze through. I couldn’t make it any bigger without it being noticed from afar.

“Good job I’m skinny then, ey?”

“Yeah, it is. I couldn’t follow you, even if I wanted to. Right, the dogs are getting closer, you need to get ready to move.”

You crouch in a runner’s position, readying yourself to make a dash for it.

“Go, _now_. Go, Holtz.” Craig growls at you. You get up and surge forwards in a crouching position. It burns your quads and pulls at your back, but you remain low. You hear a whistle from another guard, who confronts Craig, dog pulling at the lead. You stop and look behind you. Bad decision, the dog locks eyes on you and starts snarling and snapping at the air. He begins barking aggressively, saliva flying everywhere. The guard looks at the dog, but doesn’t clock you.

“Woah, Rex. Calm down. It’s probably just a rabbit. Yo, dog, stop pullin’.” The guy says, watching the dog. He turns and sees your figure hunched over.

“Fuck.” You say to yourself.

“Oi, Craig, look there’s a prisoner attempting escape. What the fuck?” the man gets on his radio and the alarm is raised.

 _“Fuck, Holtz.”_ Craig whispers under his breath. Without warning, Craig swings at the other guards face, boffing him on the chin. The other guard reels back. “Get the fuck out now!” He screams at you. You stand and sprint forwards. The other guard releases the dog and you see it charging you down, bloodlust clouding its judgement.

You scramble forwards, Rex hot on your heels and see the gap in the fence. You have a few seconds to work out your plan of attack and try to slide in through feet first. They catch on the fence and you begin to panic. The dog is a few meters away, closing the gap with every heart-stopping second. You try to wriggle through and decide that you’re going to have to turn around and go through head first. You pull your legs free and throw yourself down on your front thrusting your arms, head and shoulders through the gap. Your torso clears the gap and you flip onto your back, just in time to see the dog bite at the air close to your ankles. You yell in a panic and flail your legs in an attempt to kick him in the mouth. You miss and the dog’s jaw clamps down on your left ankle. You cry out in pain and try to shake it free; bad idea. These dogs are trained to hold on tight with their strong jaws. You have no choice, but to kick the dog. Bringing your right foot up, you line it up with his nose and mouth and strike at it, heel first. The dog lets go of your ankle and it whimpers, running back to its owner. You lie there, catching your breath, thinking you’re in the clear, but hear a gunshot and a spray of mud springs up from your chewed foot. You pull it through and flip back over, dragging yourself away into the dark. You find a large rock and stagger to your feet. You turn around to see Craig having a punch up with the dog handler. Another gunshot rings in your ears and you limp off into the woods.


	16. Chapter 14

With no knowledge of the time you wander deeper into the woods, pain coursing through your body with every step. Your leather boot, where the dog bit, is ruined and you sigh in discontent. Luckily they weren’t your Oxfords, but just a cheap pair from Walmart. You stumble onwards, getting lost in the woods, the sky disappearing below the thick canopy.

Your belly grumbles and you realise it’s been hours since you’ve eaten, or even had a drink. You listen to the various sounds of the woods – the leaves rustling in the breeze, the various birds tweeting in the trees and the rustling of the undergrowth. Amidst it all, you hear the trickle of water and follow the sound. You stumble over exposed tree roots, nearly tripping head over heels, but you regain your balance, until you locate the source of water – a free-flowing stream. As it is moving quite rapidly, you determine it is safe to drink and lower yourself to the bank, where you scoop up the cold water in your hands. You refrain from putting your face under to cool your battered face and instead sit on the damp bank and gingerly pull off your boot. Your sock is soaked in blood and you feel it away from the open wound. Cleaning it in the water, you tear the sleeve of your crop top off to act as a bandage and cover the open wound before double knotting it and putting your sock back on. You’re disappointed that you’ve had to rip one of your favourite tops, but you deem it a necessary evil to overcome this hurdle (and besides, you can just buy another from TJ Maxx). Looking about you, you notice three paths surrounding you – the one you’ve come from, one running alongside the river and one, angling back into the woods a little way off to your right. You opt to follow the river as that is the safest option (something you remember from summer camp) and delve deeper into the woods, keeping the river on your left.

As you wander and follow the river, you come to a little wooden bridge with a footpath sign. You consider your options and notice there’s another sign underneath which reads: _St Julio’s Church_ and _the Harvest Mouse_ (presumably a pub) _1 mile._ You choose to wander towards the church and climb the steps leading up to the bridge. You cross over it and through a kissing-gate on to a mud path. Emerging from the trees you follow a road leading away from where you came and come to a small village, lit by interspersed street lamps on both sides of the road. You see the spire through the trees and try to locate the pub. You don’t have to look very far, as it’s the only brightly lit building in the vicinity. You wander over to it and see that it is an Inn and there is a _Vacancy_ sign, lit up, blue, in the window. You push open the door and hear the tinkle of the bell above it. The place is quiet, and you take in its rustic feel, with wooden beams along the ceiling and a small candle-chandelier in the centre; very Gothic. You can hear the sound of a fire crackling somewhere in the building and as you approach the desk, an elderly gentleman appears from a side door to greet you.

“Why hello there, weary traveller. What can I help you with this evening?”

“I need a room, but I haven’t any money. It’s an extremely long story, but I was wrongly imprisoned in Attica and I’ve just escaped. I wish I could pay you but I have nothing. I just need somewhere to stay for the night, _please_.”

“I can’t do anything without some form of payment.”

“Then I’ll pay for her. One room, two separate beds if you wouldn’t mind.” The all-too familiar voice makes the hairs on your neck stand up. You whirl around to see an equally battered and bruised Craig standing in the doorway. He nods at you and you release a breathy chuckle.

“And here’s me thinking I’d never see you again. How’d you get out?”

“Told them I’d go and bring you back.” Craig said, approaching the reception desk. He signs a piece of paper, pays by cash and picks up the room key. “205. Well, that’s a coincidence.” You roll your eyes and follow him up the stairs.

Once inside the room you head straight to the bathroom to see the damage caused. You stare at your unrecognisable reflection in the mirror and sigh. Your face is swollen and you have a nasty black eye. Your left eye is partially shut and you have a split lip. Your hair is bedraggled and it has both dirt and blood in it. You lift a hand to the back of your head and feel the small bald patch where you had to have your head stitched. You sigh again and strip off, turning the shower to a moderate heat. You step in and wince as the water hits your various cuts adorning your body. Even though you showered under tepid water in the prison, it feels like an age since you’ve had a proper shower and you stand there letting the water wash over you, before you go about your business and actually clean yourself.

Half an hour later, you step out into the cooler room, with a towel wrapped around your body and a smaller one in your hair. Craig sees you and clears his throat. “Any good?”

“What, the shower? Yeah, nice and hot, get in there whilst the bathroom is still a sauna.” You say, chuckling. He nods and disappears leaving you to dress. You sit on the end of the bed, and enjoy its softness, before flopping backwards, still in your towel. Your eyes begin to droop, and as much as you want to just lay there and sleep, you get up and put on your underwear and crop top before partially towel-drying your hair and examining the bite on your leg.

Craig returns with his towel around his waist and you take in the toned body and scar from where he had his appendix taken out and the tribal tattoo on his right bicep. He looks at it too. “Cuba with the lads. I was a drunk 18 year old.” You smirk. Craig looks you up and down and finally mentions your six pack. “How long did you have to work to get that?”

“Few years of going to the gym every day. When I was a teenager, I made a weapon and decided to test it out at St. Paul’s Chapel, on Friday 13th. I managed to get the hefty weapon and cart upstairs into a room, but it was a real damn effort. So I had two options – start going to the gym or develop a lightweight polymer substitute. After the test went wrong and, um, partially blew up the chapel, I decided to not only do more tests and create a better and more successful weapon, but to join the gym _and_ develop a polymer substitute. And so, I started going to the gym from when I was 17 and kept going until I achieved my desired body, at about, ooh, um, 20. I stopped in my 20s, whilst I was at University, until I was about 28 and then started again, so now I go when I can; granted nowhere near as much as I’d like, or as I used to go, but on my days off I go – which is, _maybe_ , about three times a week, for the last 6 ish years, and usually early morning before I head to the lab at 8am.”

“Damn, that’s impressive. _6 years_?! Damn, that’s dedication. I used to play soccer and I went to the gym twice a week for six months, and then I did my knee in, slide tackling some dick after he tried to clothesline my teammate. Gave up after that.”

“I had to drag myself to the gym when I was a teenager, especially when I was fatigued. And then I got to 21 and everyone was getting drunk and sweating it out on the dancefloor, and I’d be drinking protein shakes and sweating it out with the dumbbells.” You shrug. Craig disappears into the bathroom, clothes in hand and comes back out with a t-shirt and boxers on.

“We should probably do something about that ankle, yano.” He takes a look at you and notices that you have ripped the sleeve off your crop top. “Well, it’s not bleeding now, but I’m afraid we’ll have to even out your top. You can’t have one long sleeve and one short sleeve.” He proceeds to rip the other sleeve off your crop top and you sit there with a pained expression on your face. “Sorry, hon, but you gotta match.” He wraps it around your ankle and locks the bedroom door, before disappearing to clean his teeth. You furrow your brow and scowl at him before clambering into the bed, just before you get back up again to blow-dry your hair. Once it’s fully dry, you swap places with Craig and go to clean your teeth with the hotel-provided brush and paste, which Craig managed to procure from the reception.

You return to find him, already in bed, light out and lightly snoring. You sigh and clamber into your bed once more, shutting off the light and rolling over into one of the most comfortable sleeps you’ve had in a while, despite the bruises.

* * *

Craig’s phone vibrating on the bedside cabinet between the two beds wakes you with a mild fright. You roll over and switch on the light before grabbing the phone and sliding to answer.

“ _Hello_?” you ask, sleepily.

“I have this number, you rang me about a week or so ago telling me you had my daughter and I told you I didn’t have one. Do you remember? You asked who asked for chocolate milk and the crusts to be cut off her PB&J sandwiches. I’ve been trying to ring you for days. You need to tell me where you are, and you need to hand over my girlfriend, _unharmed_. I have informed the police and they’re running a trace on your phone, so no matter where you go, we _will_ hunt you down and arrest you. Even if you get a burner phone; we will apprehend you. Do you hear me, you psycho?” You quietly leave the bed and step into the bathroom, shutting the door behind you.

“You know how I hate the crusts on my sandwiches. They’re the worst parts.”

“Fucking hell, Holtz.”

“Ooh, bringing on the swears.”

“You _know_ I swear when you’re around. It’s your fault. What the hell are you doing with your kidnapper’s phone?”

“Funny story, but he’s helped me to escape.”

“You’re _kidding_ me, right Jillian? I swear to God.”

“No, I’m being deadly serious. Swear on my life. Craig is a good guy. Yah he beat me, but he woulda been shot if he didn’t, so yano, swings and roundabouts.”

“He be-be- _beat_ you?”

“Yah. When I rang you the other day and I was yelling out. I know you were still on the phone and I’m sorry you had to hear that, babe. But I’m alright. He got me out. We’re at The Harvest Mouse Inn. In the village just North of Attica. He’s asleep in the room and I’m in the bathroom.”

“You’re in the same room as your kidnapper?” Erin asks, flatly.

“Yeah, but it’s alright. He’s a decent guy.”

Erin scoffs. “Decent? He beat the shit out of you and you wanna tell me he’s _decent?!_ Oh, my God, Holtz. Get out, it’s a trap.”

You sigh, exasperated. “Babe, it’s, it’s not a trap. I’m telling you. If it was he would have let them shoot me, or let the dog maul me, but he didn’t. He paid for the goddamn room.”

“Oh, well, I _suppose_ that makes it all better, doesn’t it?”

“Why are you being like this?”

“Because you’ve been kidnapped and abused and you’re with your kidnapped. I know you’re intelligent, but isn’t _any_ of this ringing any alarm bells for you?!”

“Noooope.” You blow a raspberry.

“Okay, well, please can you just leave? We’ll pick you up somewhere. We’re actually on our way to rescue you and now I don’t get some big romantic break-out scene.” Erin sighs and pouts on the other side of the phone.

“You’re pouting aren’t you?”

“No” she says in a baby voice. “I’m not pouting.” Erin says defiantly.

“Yes you are, and you can still have your big rescue. I’ll dramatically fall in the road and you’ll _have_ to stop and sweep me off my feet and carry me, _oh woe is me_ , into the car and care for me.”

“Bit extreme.”

You chuckle. “Always is with me, ain’t it?”

Erin laughs. “Never easy with you, nope, but that’s what I love about you. You’re a challenge, and a little shit, and immature, and my significant annoyance, but you’re also smart, funny, caring, loyal, honest and true to your word and that’s what I love about you.”

“I’m also a perfectionist, modest, humble, dedicated and witty.”

“Well, now you’re just showing off. But yes, you’re all those things.”

“Virgo. And still 100% jazzed to meet you … well _see_ you. I’ll be 100% jazzed to see you later, Er-bear.”

“God, you’re so queer.”

“I’m not a lesbian for the fun of it.”

“I meant _weird_ , you fucking idiot. But yes, you’re also _that_ type of queer.”

“Well, shit, okay. Wrong form of queer. I can’t keep up with all these different terms to be honest, Er. Changing all the time. Haha.” You hear her groan in exasperation and she tells you to start walking. You sigh and hang up.

You pull on your overalls and boots, before getting the rest of your effects together and on and pocketing Craig’s phone. You search his pockets and come across his wallet. You’re really tempted to steal $30 from his wallet, but you hesitate and then steal it anyway. You find his notebook and rifle through it, seeing if there is anything to help you. There’s nothing of interest, except bets on how long you will survive. You roll your eyes and then scribble: _Sorry, I stole money. J._ and leave it, and his watch, on the bedside cabinet.

You dial Erin again. “Yo, so I got his cell and some cash. I dunno whether to take his phone so you know where I am, or leave it for him.”

“Leave the SIM card, take the phone. He can get a replacement. Save my number to the phone memory.” You do as you’re told and leave the SIM on the piece of paper. Shrugging on your coat, you check the time on the phone _03:22._ You pull your coat on properly and fasten it before wandering down the carpeted stairs to the reception. It’s quiet, and the man has obviously gone to bed. You yawn and realise that you’ve not had much sleep, for this past week. The automatic doors slide open as you approach and you step out into the freezing air. You shiver against the cold and set off in the opposite direction from whence you came; wandering deeper into the village, until you get to a stile just before the main road. You scramble over it and onto the muddy grass on the other side.

Coming through the bushes, you join the road and turn left, trying to put as much distance between you and the prison as possible. You wander down the road for over an hour and your feet are sore. Just as you are ready to give up and sit on the side of the road, Erin rings again.

“Hey baby. Where are you?”

“On the road. There’s just trees around and a low brick wall. Nothing of any interest; no landmarks or anything. I’ll keep walking and text you a picture.” You wander for another half an hour, until you reach a disused gas station. You see the unlit mandala flower and recognise it to be BP. You stop on the other side of the road and take a photo, before texting it to Erin. She replies with a smiley and a thumb up. You cross the road, and lean against a bin. Breathing in the smell of gasoline, you kick your toes into the dust in front of you and listen out for approaching vehicles. You check the phone again _04:10._ It has been a long night, and standing here, with the chill now in your bones, you want this night to end and to get back to reality. You are desperate for a bit of normalcy and feel like crying due to being overtired.

The low rumble of a vehicle approaching snaps you out of your reverie and you look about for the source of the noise. A Chevrolet pickup truck comes into view and, breaks squeaking, stops adjacent to you. The passenger-side door opens and an exhausted Erin steps out, almost falling down the small step attached to the base of the door. She leaves it open and rushes to you, jabbering incoherently in excitement. You wait for her to approach, but remain both still and silent.

Smothering you with kisses, she pulls you in for a tight hug and squeezes the air from you. “Ba-babe. Oh, my God. Babe. I can- breathe. Ba-”

“Oh, shit, sorry.” She says, releasing you. You cough and breathe in deeply, wincing at your broken ribs, which have flared up in pain again. You wince and clutch your side, exhaling through your mouth slowly and loudly.

“Shit, are you okay?”

“Broken ribs. You’ve just-”

“Oh, my God. I’m sorry baby. I didn’t know. Let’s have a look at you.” She holds your shoulders at arms-length and her expression changes from glee to sadness. She can see your cuts, bruises and black eye and also notices how much older you look from the sleepless nights. She tuts, but pulls you in for a lighter hug; barely touching you this time. You bring your left arm up and round her middle, still clutching your side. You rub her back and, without warning, begin crying into her shoulder. She rubs your back in comfort, but lets you cry silently, without speaking. You sniff; wipe your eyes and swallow, before clearing your throat and putting your arm around her waist, so you’re now side-to-side. She takes this as a sign to leave and begins walking towards the truck, your footsteps falling in line with hers.

You round the front of the truck and Kevin climbs out from the back. He nods at you and wanders to the back of the truck, jumping up over the tailgate and settling down on the flatbed. You clamber in the back and Erin returns to the driver’s cabin.

“Hey Abby, hey Patty.” You say sleepily.

“Hey, Holtzy.” Patty says. “Nice to have you back, baby girl.” She leans over and gently pats your knee. You settle back into the chair and put on your belt, before leaning your head on Abby’s shoulder and drifting off into a peaceful sleep.

Erin nods at the driver and he reverses the truck and leaves the way he came; back down the road from the outskirts, towards the City of New York. 


	17. Chapter 15

_One month later_

You wake up, next to the familiar redhead and you smile contentedly. You roll over and kiss her bare shoulder. She mumbles in her sleep and you continue to kiss her shoulder and neck, and then kissing her cheek.

“Staaahp” she moans, before giggling. You stop to see if she is actually asleep or on the brink of waking. She slurs something about ice cream and puppies and speaks gibberish, helping you to ascertain her state. She is still asleep, so you kiss her again and stretch out in the bed.

Bored and horny, you straddle her and kiss her sleeping face. She doesn’t react or move, so you kiss her again. And again. And again. You consider it safe to play with Erin and kiss her bare sternum and breasts. Taking a nipple in your mouth you gently suck at it. You do the same with the other and wonder how she is still sleeping so soundly. You kiss your way down to the waistband of her _Victoria Secret_ knickers and trail a finger just above it. You push a hand inside her underwear and finally a soft moan emanates from her lips. You pull them a little way down her thighs and find her vagina, lightly wet from your touch. You begin to leisurely rub it getting it wetter with each upwards and downwards stroke. Gently spreading her legs, you continue to rub and massage, and lower yourself down. You take her knickers off and toss them out the side of the bed.

Lowering your head, you take her clit in your mouth and lick is softly. Light moans, in slumber and pleasure, escape Erin’s lips. You continue to lick, increasing pressure and speed, in steady intervals. You get faster and her moans increase in volume; evidence of her awakening from her deep sleep. Her vagina is now sufficiently wet and you slip your middle finger inside her, doing your usual routine of in and out, before circling. You kind of feel like a stuck record repeating the same actions, in the same order, but Erin always seems to enjoy it, and with her being such a stickler for routine, you are afraid of trying anything new in case she is so against it. You put your index finger inside, and continue with the same thrusting and beckoning motion for a few more minutes.

You return to give her head, still fingering her as you do so and you feel the vaginal walls tighten around your fingers. Erin moans again; this time louder than before. Her eyes flicker open and all the sensation of pleasure fills her body and consciousness. She is enjoying it; albeit a bit confused, so still questions your actions.

“What?” she asks, breath shaking. “What are you – oh, my God – doing?”

“Well, what does it feel like?”

“Ohhh, Holtz. But I was asleep.”

“And now you’re not.”

“But I –” she moans again, legs shaking.

“But nothing. Shush, and let me finish you off.”

She moans louder and grabs your hair, pushing your head down to continue eating her out. You moan into her clit, smirking as you do so, and oblige, but take your fingers back out. Her other hand flails around for the pillow. Craning her neck up to watch you, the pleasure becomes too much for her to endure, and she flops down, back arching, legs shaking harder and faster. She squeaks and does her usual high-pitched sneeze before cumming into your mouth. You swallow it and lick the rest of it away with your tongue.

“You’re a bitch, yano, Holtz.”

You jut out your bottom lip, mouth shiny from her cum. “Um, why?”

“I was having a nice sleep, and then you come along, all bull in a china shop and rudely wake me up. I was having a nice dream as well.”

“I’m sowweee. Holtzy sowweee. But I’m hooornnyyyyyy!” you grumble, elongated each word, in a slight baby voice. You put your bottom lip out again, sulking and furrow your brow, in pretend sadness.

“Stop sulking and I might return the favour. _Might._ ”

You pull a face and poke out your tongue, before licking your lips and kissing hers. She rolls her eyes, but reciprocates. She kisses you passionately, and sits up in the bed, lips still locked on to yours. She pulls away and looks at you with wild passion in her eyes.

You give her the side-eye and roll off the bed, bumping your knee on the way down. You cry out and pout again. This time she rolls towards you and leans off the bed, kissing it better.

“Ooh, whilst you’re down there.” You say, smirking.

She swats at you. “Oh, shut the fuck up, you.” She kisses your knee again and kisses up your inner thigh, craning her neck, straining to go any higher. “Nope, that’s your lot. Can’t go higher, my neck hurts.”

You groan in frustration and wander off, naked to the bedroom door.

“I wouldn’t, if I were you!”

You stop and turn to face her, head tipped back, pouting again. “What, why? No sex if I leave? Give over; you can’t resist me, Gilbert.” You open the door, and leaving it wide open, prancing into your living room. You’re greeted by Abby and Patty sat at your Island Counter, scoffing some cereal they found in one of your cupboards. Patty drops her spoon with a _clatter_.

“Oh, fuck. Hi.” You say, sheepishly. Face glowing red.

I told you!” Erin’s voice floats in from the bedroom.

“Well, we’re all women here, so...”

“Um, boss?” Kevin asks, putting his fingers to his eyes, through the rims of his glasses; still without lenses.

“Kevin?! Oh, Christ.” You face-palm and then stand there, hands on hips. “Fuck it; everyone’s seen me naked now. I literally don’t care. I give up. Hey, y’all, have a good look.” You do a twirl for them and proceed to make your own breakfast, still starkers.

Erin sheepishly emerges from the bedroom, duvet wrapped around her like a toga. She creeps up to you and kisses your shoulder.

 _“As modest you are, and as lovely as your body is, please put some clothes on sweetie.”_ She whispers in your ear. You sigh and meander over to the bedroom, finding a sock of yours on a lamp on the way there. She follows you, still in her duvet toga and shuts the door behind you.

“When did they all get here?” you ask, now highly embarrassed.

“You invited everyone over for a takeaway and to tell us about your time in the prison; the first time you decided to open up about it to be honest. And I don’t blame you at all. Except, you never really got to telling us the story. We all had a bit too much to drink, so you shouted at us to all stay. Those three stayed in the lounge and we came in here.”

“Dare I ask how my sock ended up on the lamp?”

“Um…” now it’s Erin’s turn to blush “…well, you tried to have sex with me out there, and proceeded to throw off your clothes, but I had to quickly usher you into the bedroom, before the others woke up. Although, I’m pretty sure they heard us; last night and this morning. Notice how they avoided eye contact?”

“Oh, well, I just thought that was cos I’m naked.”

“Yeah, well that too.” Erin coughs and shakes her head.

“You were so drunk last night, you weren’t taking no for an answer.”

You stare at her wide eyed and sit, manspreading, on the edge of the bed. “I didn’t, yano, _rape_ you, did I?” you ask, cautiously.

“No, you eventually stopped and passed out on the carpet before getting to the bed.”

You chuckle awkwardly. And try to remember last night.

“I put you to bed and then you woke up about 2am, much more sober than when you went to bed. That was, incidentally, the time I woke up horny, so that’s when we had sex.”

“Oh, well, that’s good.” You say, sighing in relief.

“But you were _so_ loud, which is so not you. You’re normally super quiet.”

Your cheeks burn a deep scarlet again. “Oops, well, the whole apartment block heard, probably.”

“Thankfully, it was just those three in there. Now, come on, get dressed. Stop procrastinating.”

You beckon her over and she cocks her head at you. Dropping the duvet, she gets down on her hands and knees, and crawls her way over to you; something which is both unusual and new for Erin. She reaches you, still manspreading on the bed and grabs your knees. Without breaking eye contact, she grins at you and then proceeds to lick you out. She takes you by surprise and you gasp, falling backwards on to the bed, and giving yourself over to her. She licks you aggressively, but this just heightens your pleasure. You moan with enjoyment and grab the sheets.

There is a knock on the door.

“No, don’t. No. Don’t you dare.” Erin says, as you move to open it.

You lay still and Erin continues pleasuring you with her tongue and the door knocks again.

“Uh, guys?” Abby asks.

“We’re … busy.” You manage to say, in between gasps.

“Sorry, this is important. It’s Mayor Bradley.”

“Fuck’s sake!” you exclaim at the closed door. You grunt loudly in discontent and push Erin’s head out the way. You lower your voice, so Abby can’t hear you. “ _Fucking hell. All I want is some time to myself, with you, and we can’t seem to have that. Let’s go see what they Mayor wants. Save that for later, though, yeah?_ ” You say, getting up off the bed, still incredibly horny. You slink off into the bathroom to grab a quick shower. Erin, in the bedroom, dresses in yesterday’s clothes – bootcut jeans, _Betty Boop_ t-shirt and your MIT hoodie. She throws her hair up in a ponytail and interrupts your shower to clean her teeth. She opens the shower door and pulls you forward, splashing herself in the process. She kisses you zealously, with her tongue, and then pushes you, stunned, back into the shower. Closing the door, she cleans her teeth and leaves you standing there, mouth agape, ignoring the time delay.

“Close your mouth, you’ll swallow soap. And hurry up, babe!” she shouts, muffled, through the glass. You nod and continue to wash yourself.

Once dry, you don a grey sports bra, your pastel-blue _One of the Boys_ tank top, ice cream boxers and brown flared trousers and grab your brown leather belt with large belt-buckle consisting of a woman’s leg and a wheel before throwing on a pair of _Harry Potter_ socks and leaving the bedroom.

“You can’t wear that to meet the Mayor, sweetie.” Patty says dryly.

“Why not?”

Erin tuts. “Babe, you’re meeting the _Mayor,_ you can’t wear your low cut, open side tank top. You have to make an effort. What about your waistcoat?”

“But, you’re wearing my MIT hoodie? Patty is wearing her large hoop earrings, and purple and black Nike sneakers and Abby is wearing her plaid shirt under a cardigan. And besides, the last time we met with him, we were all in jumpsuits. Looking like garbage disposal officials.”

“Yes, and I’m going to change into my brown pattern dress. I’ll meet you back in the lab in fifteen.” She kisses the top of your head and you disappear back into the bedroom.

You take your tank top off and replace it with a yellow blouse with green arrows representing trees scattered over it. You put a bandana in your hair and throw on a long grey cardigan, before pushing the sleeves up and attaching your watch to your left wrist. Grabbing your _Screw-U_ necklace, which you don’t remember having taken off; you attach it around your neck and put your yellow bottle-cap glasses, (which you thankfully didn’t have during your stint in prison) on your face. Rummaging in a top draw, you thrust your red leather gloves on your hands and check out your appearance in the mirror. You blow a raspberry and keep your driving gloves on; perhaps you should take them off when you reach the Mayor’s office.

You, Patty, Abby and Kevin take a taxi cab to the lab and meet up with Erin. The four of you then hop in the cab you just arrived in and take it to the Mayor’s office.

When you arrive, two black SUVs with fully tinted windows are sitting outside. The taxi pulls up and you all clamber out, only to be greeted by Agents Hawkins and Rourke. “Ladies, sir, this way, please.” Agent Hawkins says. He gestures up the steps, and you all saunter inside, before shortly being shown into the Mayor’s office. His secretary, Jennifer Lynch, is perched on his desk, explaining, for the second time, about tandem skydiving and how the instructor would be on top.

“Nope, I won’t have that. I’m a top. Why can’t he be below me?”

“Because it’s tandem, sir, and he knows what he’s doing, he’s the instructor.”

“Nope, no. No, thanks.”

Agent Hawkins clears his throat. “Mr Mayor.” Jennifer stands and turns to face you. Coincidentally you sit in the same seats as you did the first time, but this time, Kevin stands, next to Patty. A chair appears behind him and he sits down.

Instinctively you put a foot on the edge of his desk, in your white and brown Oxfords, and Abby pushes your foot down, before you elevate it and cross it so your right foot is on your left thigh. You lean back in the wide-back chair and balance your elbows on the back. You jerk your head backwards in an acknowledgement ‘nod’ at Jennifer and wink at her. Abby punches you in the leg, having seen what you’ve done. You mutter _“Ow”_ under your breath and glare at her.

 _“Don’t be a_ _dick_ _, Holtz”_ she whispers quietly. _“You can’t flirt with everyone. Erin’s your missus, don’t start playing the field.”_

_“I wink at everyone, Abby. You know me.”_

_“Sadly, I do and it can be rather irritating.”_

_“Sorry, I was just saying that I’ve always been flirty to all the ladies. Doesn’t mean I’m gonna cheat on Erin, not when I want to marry her.”_

Abby stares at you and her jaw drops. _“We’ll talk about that later._ What can we do for you, Mayor?” she asks, reverting to her normal voice.

“We want to thank you for your service, ladies. And sir.”

“Kevin, hi. I’m their receptionist. I just happened to be with them, but I feel like I should be manning the telephones.”

Kevin rises, but Patty grabs his arm and pulls him back down. “ _Sit_.” She says, with a sharp tone. Kevin sits back down and folds his arms across his chest.

“As I was saying, we want to thank you for your efforts. And you.” The Mayor points directly at you.

 _“Holtzmann, Sir.”_ Jennifer whispers.

“Holtz- _man_ , as in ‘male’? or _mon_ as in ‘Monday’?”

You sigh. “ _Man._ Holtz-man. Holtzmann.”

The Mayor nods, and proceeds to still pronounce it wrong. “Holtzmon. I was sorry to hear about your accident, in which your automobile was written off, but I believe we have found a suitable replacement for you. Well, we have a range of vehicles for your choosing – From a Range Rover, a Chevy pickup truck, er, what else do we have, Ms Lynch?”

“We have a Subaru, a Ford van and…” she chuckles.

“Whaaat? I’m sorry, sir, with all due respect, do you have anything that’s a bit less, erm, redneck, and more, um, scientist?”

Jennifer cocks her head at you. “What are you … expecting? Something more like a DMC DeLorean? Yes, I do believe that Doctor Emmett Brown has one from the 80s just floating around, waiting to be passed on to you, from the comfort of his shed in Hill Valley.” She glares at you and you suck your teeth.

“Are there any spare Cadillacs floating around in any junkyards, or, or yano, the DMV?”

“Oh, sure, let me just place a call to the Chief of the DMV and ask him for a spare Caddy.” She replies sarcastically.

“Well, if you could. And if you could, _perhaps_ , if it’s not _too much_ trouble, request a Cadillac Miller-Meteor.” You retort, equally as sarcastic. Abby thumps you in the leg again. You glare at her and sigh, putting your foot back up on the desk. Jennifer rolls her eyes and shakes her head, but says nothing.

“You _specifically_ want a Cadillac, built by the Miller-Meteor company, is that right, Holtzmon?”

You clench your jaw at the mispronunciation of your name. “Uh, yeah, the ol’ faithful. We lost the first Ectomobile in the vortex, in the Ghostworld, and, well, I smashed up the second one, the Ecto-1A so now we need a third; Ecto-1B. Like one of those old end loader ambulances, with the trolley at the back – the, the gurney – for our weapons. Speaking of, did anyone manage to recover the Super Slammer, or the Nitrous Oxide canisters from the top of the vehicle?

“You mean the giant yellow canisters and the giant box?” Agent Rourke asks.

“Yes, those! They’re highly important, and, er, radioactive, and, well, there could be mass hysteria, which we wanted to avoid the last time, New York was in disrepute, and, er …” you mimic an explosion, just like the first time you were in the Mayor’s office. Jennifer and Abby roll their eyes at you.

“They’re in the police lock-up. NYPD have them.”

You widen your eyes. “Um, no, we … _I …_ need them.”

“They’re _radioactive._ That’s a big no, no.” Agent Hawkins says.

“Well, they help power everything.”

Agent Rourke thrusts his hands in his pockets and pulls a face at you. “But in the wrong hands…?”

“ _I_ am _not_ the wrong hands. I _invented_ them. I am a nuclear engineer. I designed all our weapons and the Super Slammer, and the Ectomobile.” The Agents look at you confused. “Ecto, er, named after ‘ectoplasm’. The goo which ghosts emit; especially when they explode or ectoproject, er, vomit, over you.”

“That stuff gets everywhere, by the way. In every crack.” Erin pipes up.

You nod your head and point at her. “Yeah, she knows. She nearly died. Twice. I need those canisters.”

“But without a vehicle…?”

“Mayor Bradley, do you have a vehicle for us, please?” Abby asks, forcefully.

“We might have one, but it’s at an auction. In three days’ time. The 25th Annual MotorFest is back in Brooklyn and I believe there is an ambulance/hearse type vehicle, up for auction. But, I must warn you, it might not be a Cadillac. Oh, and it’s auctioning for $300,000.” Jennifer replies, stressing the price.

You gasp over-exaggeratedly. “$300,000?! You’re fuc-kidding, right?!”

“No, we don’t joke, Holtzmann.” She says, seriously, but at least pronouncing your name correctly.

“Right, well, is that it or…?” You ask, rising from your seat.

“No, that’s not it.” Mayor Bradley answers. You sit down again. “We would like to formally issue you ladies with a Medal of Valour for your bravery in fighting the ghosts which threatened to destroy our City. There will be an awards ceremony, broadcast live on CNN, but you will each receive an invitation to the event, from the postal service, within the week. That is all, now you may leave.”

You all stand to rise and the Agents wander to the door to escort you from the building.

“Oh, and good luck with the car.” The Mayor says, nodding at you. You give a half smile, raise your eyebrows and follow Kevin through the door.

You all exit and stand on the street. “Now what?” Kevin asks, pulling the bottom of his plain white t-shirt down so it sits at the bottom of his waistcoat. He spins his bowler hat, before perching it atop his head.

You notice he’s wearing a t-shirt and jeans, and wrinkle your nose. “Hang a mo, how come Kevin can wear jeans to see the Mayor and I have to bloody dress up?”

“It’s Kevin; I don’t think he owns anything other than jeans and a jumpsuit.”

“No, I do, actually.” He says, his Aussie accent thicker, suddenly. “I didn’t know we were going to see the Mayor, I thought we were going for food.”

“You and your stomach!” Erin laughs, pats his stomach. Without warning, your stomach grumbles loudly and you tip your wrist, to see what the time is.

“Jesus, guys, it’s twenty to two! Where the hell has the time gone?!”

“Well, we didn’t wake up until 9am, and you and Erin didn’t wake up until 11am and then we’ve been in the Mayor’s office.” Abby says.

“Don’t forget travel time.” Patty adds.

“Yeah, that too.” Abby adds.

You suck in your gum, below your lower lip, and stare at them, with your brow furrowed and nose wrinkled. Erin knows the look all too well. “Right, guys, we need to drop everything. Madam here…” she jerks her thumb in your direction and you pretend to eat it “…needs food, otherwise she’ll be hangry.”

“Yo, low blood sugar is serious. I told y’all before. I agree with Holtzy. Let’s eat.” You all wander off towards your usual eatery in silence.

Grabbing Erin’s hand, you pull her back. Abby, sees her drop back out the corner of her eye and slows her pace.

“We’ll catch you guys up.” Erin says. _“You okay, baby?_ ” she whispers.

“Yeah, I wanna tell you something.”

“I, I, aw shit, here comes another, um, whaddaya call it? Erm, uh, um, uh, ah, uhhh…” you sigh.

“Cat got your tongue?”

You chuckle. “Shit, you know I’m not good at what I need to say.”

“Oh, God. Are you breaking up with me?” Erin says; face changing expression, and eyes searching yours for an answer.

“What?! Oh, God no! Babe, no, no, listen. No, no, no, that’s, that’s, that’s, not, not… Urgh!”

“Babe, take a breath. There’s no rush.”

You sigh again. “No, I want to… I want… _fuck-ing hell._ Jesus. What is _wrong_ with me? Whenever my feelings are involved, I freeze up and my tongue gets muddled with what my brain sends and, and…”

“Talk science to me.” Erin says, squeezing your hands.

“A covalent bond is a molecular bond, and chemical bond that, er, shares electron pairs between atoms. These electron pairs, also known as _bonding pairs_ , um, and the, um, stable balance of attractive and repulsive forces between atoms, when they, erm, share electrons, is called covalent bonding.”

“Yes, I am well aware of what a covalent bond is, but what has that got to do with us?”

“Bonds. Pairs. Pairing; we’re a pair. We’ve bonded. We’re covalent bonds. That, erm. Oh, fuck it, that doesn’t make sense.”

“No, it does. What else have you got? I know you. You like to give a long-winded explanation into everything and always relate it to science and that’s what fascinates me about you, Holtz.”

You blow a raspberry and think of something else to say. You know what you want to say, but as you’re panicking, you need to pussyfoot around the subject, until you calm down. “Okay, try this on for size. Lust is characterised by a craving for sexual gratification and an emotional attachment, with a potential partner; this attachment is characterised by a craving to maintain this close personal contact. So, in theory, and in practice, we can use _science_ to tell us about the process of falling in love.”

“So you’re in love with me?”

“Unequivocally. Undeniably. Full of Eros, Philia, and Pragma love for you. I love you erotically, affectionately and have enduring love for you. Like, all the loves that Aristotle characterised.”

“Damn, that’s a lot of love.”

“Yes, and it’s all mine to give. Forever, until we die. I want you until the day I die. Right by my side; as my partner and my wife.” You stare at her, wide eyed, surprising yourself, that you came out and said what you were trying to say.

“Wait, you want me to be your wife?”

“Yes, that’s what I’ve been trying to say. I love you Erin Gilbert. Like so, so much. More than I love working on new projects and making weapons and tinkering and fixing shit up and bustin’ ghosts. Like I love you more than life itself. And I love life. And myself.”

“Aaaand, that’s where you spoil it, with your big-headedness.” Erin says, kissing your cheek.

“So, that’s a yes?”

“Wait until you actually propose.”

“Fuck. Fine.” You kiss her back and turn to jog up to the others. She takes two strides to catch up with you and playfully slaps your ass, in the middle of the street, before striding off to meet Abby and Patty waiting at the door to the Jacob Wirth Co. Restaurant – your favourite eatery. You jog down the street, and apologise profusely, saying you needed to tell Erin something important. Abby winks at you knowingly and you all disappear inside.

* * *

The rest of the day passes by quietly, even with Kevin disappearing post-meal to head back to the lab and man the phones. He texts Abby to tell her that there are no messages on the answering machine, and you all continue drinking in the bar.

Several hours later, the four of you stagger out of the restaurant. Erin and you heading back to your apartment, Abby to hers and Patty back to her Uncle’s. Erin drunkenly calls for a taxi and you giggle and babble incoherently at her, posh phone voice, trying her best to not slur her words.

“Yessss. I’d like a *hic* taxi to 1005 Big Apple Avenue, NY, overlooking Central Park. Damn, sorry, I have hiccups. I ate too fast. Yeah, for t-two, please. Sorry, got distracted. Two please. Yup, er, Gilbert. A.S.A.P. Thaaaaankssss.” She hangs up and breathes a sigh of relief. You giggle at her and give her a slobbery kiss.

“Ew, Holtz. That’s gross!” she says, wiping your saliva off her face. You pout at her and grab her hand. You pull it downwards and lean your head on her arm – you can’t quite reach her shoulder, on account of the fact she is 5’5” and you’re 5’3”.

As you stand there, swaying unsteadily on your feet, you look up at Erin and stare at her with unabashed love, sexual tension rising, like smoke from a fire.

“You’re staring at me and it’s making me uncomfortable.”

“Buuuut, I looooove yooooou. And it’s okay, because you love me too.”

“Holtz, I can’t right now. I’m too *hic* dr-uuu-nk to handle your in-tents staring. I do love you, but I just wanna get home.”

“In tents? There’s no tents. _Intense_. The word you want is _intense_.”

“What-eveeer!” Erin says sounding like a basic white girl. She bursts out laughing and you join in with her. Cackling on the street, and hugging each other, you fall into the taxi when it arrives.

* * *

You fumble with your keys, trying to insert the old key for Ecto-1A into the lock, and leaning, precariously on your feet. As you stare at the keys, trying to find the right one, you wobble forward and head-butt the door, with a loud _thunk_. You managed to navigate the elevator, but keys seem to be like a Rubik’s Cube, right now. Erin guffaws at you and you drunkenly flip her off. “Shhhuuut, the fuuuck up, biiitch.” Erin sucks your middle finger seductively and you go to kiss her, but she pushes you backwards. You stumble, but manage to retain your balance.

She takes your keys from you and leans against the door, to give it a push, it opens with ease and she stumbles inside. “Oh, didn’t need to lean. Fuck, I’m drunk. Ooh, shit.” Erin staggers over to the sofa and throws her handbag on the armchair, missing it by a mile, and actually landing it near the TV.

“Shiiit shot.”

“Fuuuckofff” she slurs. You giggle again and slam the front door, before apologising to it and telling it to shush. Erin also tells you to be quiet.

“Why, it’s like six o’clock.” You say, emphasising the ‘k’.

“We have been at the pub since 2pm, and we’re fucked in four hoursss-uh…” she says, adding stress to the end of the word.

“Baaaaaabe. Baaaaabe. I’m hooooot. Like seriously. Is it hot in here?” you whine.

“I know you’re hot. No, not warm in here. Take your clothes off.” She says struggling to undo the straps on her heels. You throw off your cardigan and dump your Oxfords by the door, before throwing off your shirt and flared-trousers. You stand there in your sports bra and ice cream boxers, hands on hips, blowing air up from your bottom lip to your face. Erin finally manages to get both her heels off, before she leans forwards to pull off her tights, and ends up falling into the glass coffee table; luckily it doesn’t shatter.

“Oh, fuck, babe.” You say, suddenly a lot more sober. You rush over to help her get her tights off and then to her feet. “You’re a walking hazard.”

“You’re the walking saaafetttyy hazzzard, Hoooltzzz!” she says, swaying unsteadily.

“We’re drunk; d’you waaant to dooo what I _really_ want to do?”

“Fuuuckyeeesss!” she exclaims. You unzip her dress and help her out of it, so that you’re both stood in the dying light, in your underwear. You stumble over to the main light and stub your toe in the process. You wince and cry out and Erin pouts at you; your signature move.

You kiss her neck as passionately as you can muster, still being heavily intoxicated. You kiss her lips and force your tongue into her mouth. She moans and reciprocates, until you clash teeth and have to stop. She bites your lip, a little too hard, and makes it bleed. You jut it out at her and pull a sad face.

“You made me bleed.” You say, in a baby voice. You lick it away, and then suck at your lip.

“OhmyGod, I’m sorry.” She says, kissing your cheek.

When it stops, you start to kiss her again and then lay her, clumsily on the sofa, legs hanging over the arm. She wriggles to the centre of the L shape, and breathes heavily. You clamber over the arm of the chair and land awkwardly on top of her, letting out an “ _oomph”_ sound as you come into contact with her. You push yourself up and move forwards, so your faces are aligned. You kiss her all over and then trail your fingers over her soft, warm flesh, kissing here there and everywhere. You stroke down her torso and kiss her breasts, taking her bra off, onehanded; which seems to be easier now that you’re drunk.

You kiss her bare breasts and play with her nipples, making them hard. You massage her breasts, making her moan with pleasure, before you gently caress her entire body and then her vagina. You aim to make her feel like there’s no pain in the world, only pleasure. You want to treat her like a princess.

“I want you to know you are the most important person in my life and in the world, Er-bear. And I love you deeply.” You say, in between your moans, as you try to settle your thoughts and your drunken passion. “I’m going to work you over until you cum again, and again. I love it when you cum, babe. It turns me right on.”

“Shuut uuup and fuck me. Fuck my pussy, babe.” Erin slurs.

“Yes, ma’am!” you say, before giving her the two-fingered salute and inserting those fingers inside her. You pump your fingers in and out, before proceeding to circle them inside, getting faster and faster. Your breathing getting hot and heavy against her neck, her moans, rising in pitch. You alternate between slow and fast speeds, and a beckoning motion, straight fingers in and out and circles. Despite being quite drunk, you can feel yourself getting wet and you can’t wait for Erin to return the favour.

Fifteen minutes, you’re still at it, and you now have cramp in your wrist, working its way up your forearm. “Babe?” You ask, half-drunk at this point. “Where are you?”

“What do you mean? I’m right here.”

“Is your mind elsewhere? You’re normally quick and we’ve been at this for at least fifteen minutes.”

“Oh, yah, I’m concentrating. I think I’m too drunk to cum… or at least be quick about it.”

You swap to your weaker hand, which sends Erin into a flurry of mumbles. You shake out your right hand and flex your fingers, trying to release the lactic acid build-up. You try to match the rhythm of your left hand to what you had achieved with your right, but you struggle and swap back again.

“Babe, I, I’m sorry, I can’t. Here, lemme just do you.” A half-sober Erin says, wriggling out from underneath you and clambering over you, resulting in the pair of you head-butting each other. You both exclaim in pain and rub your foreheads better.

Erin straddles you and pins your arms above your head, before she leans down and pinches your neck with her teeth. She grins into your flesh and proceeds to nip at the skin, sucking hard as she goes, clearly creating a love bite on your jugular. You pull air through your teeth partially in mild pain, but more in pleasure than anything. She works her way down to your clavicle and kisses along it, to your sternum, and along the other clavicle. She kisses your mouth and cheeks and nose and forehead, before returning to your now-erect nipples. Sucking at them, she nibbles them lightly, making you draw air through your teeth again, with a bit more force.

You moan loudly and try to touch her, but your arms are still pinned above your head, so you try to concentrate on her making you feel good. She fingers you passionately and kisses down your stomach, before giving you head. She focuses on this, licking you soft, and then hard. She tries for a while more and then gets jaw ache, so opts to finger you instead.

Another fifteen minutes go by, but you’re also still too drunk to reach climax and so you tell Erin and the pair of you decide to call it a night.


	18. Chapter 16

You roll over to discover that Erin is not lying in the bed next to you. You frown and pout, before finding a little note on the bedside cabinet: _Gone for coffee xoxo._ You smile at the note and get up to pee. Once you’ve done so you throw on your boxers and your _One of the Boys_ tank top and meander into the kitchen to prepare breakfast for you both.

On Erin’s arrival, you hear a knocking at the door and you saunter to the door, checking the peephole to check that it’s actually Erin, and fling open the door.

“Hey, babe, I hope it’s still hot. The line at Starbucks was a doozy.”

“Did you get my Grande caramel macchiato with origin blend, whipped cream and extra drizzle?”

“How could I not get your fave?”

“Well, I distinctly remember a time where you _didn’t_ get origin, whipped cream _or_ drizzle and I was very upset.”

“And I told you I was sorry, about six times. I’m positive, this time, I’ve got it right.”

“Well, yano what, I’m positive I got your breakfast right.” You say, smirking at her before heading over to the open-plan kitchen.

Erin smirks back at you and kisses the top of your head. “Oh really? And what did you make for me?”

“Well, when I mentioned it during the early hours of this morning, you didn’t really decide whether you wanted scrambled eggs on toast, or boiled egg and soldiers, so I made both and we can have half each.”

“Sounds great! I’m starving.”

“And then…” you kiss her nose, standing on your tiptoes “…you can have me for second breakfast.”

“Oof, even better.”

“And you can start by licking the ice cream.” You say, pointing to your ice cream pants, and your crotch. “Correction: the _melting, dribbling, oozing_ ice cream.”

“My absolute pleasure. I love ice cream.” She says raising an eyebrow and giving a half smile.

“How do you want your eggs though, Erin? Fertilised?”

“Yes, Holtz; all of them, could you do that for me?”

“Well, you produce one egg every time Mother Nature comes a-calling and I don’t have a dick, but I’m sure we can work something out, babycakes.”

“We always work it out.”

“Wait, so, you’re saying you want human babies now, Er-bear?”

“Wait, what, haha, um, maybe, I mean, the thought has crossed my mind. I never wanted kids before, but with you it’s different and I would love to see us have a little family.”

“But, um, what about my current children?”

“What current children?”

“Oh, my chinchillas.”

“Wait?! You have chinchillas? Since when?”

“Since about two years ago?”

“How have I never noticed them?”

“They’re crepuscular, meaning their peak activity periods are between dawn and dusk. So usually when we’re asleep, or sitting down to watch TV, they’re active.”

“Where the hell are they?”

“In my office. Upstairs.”

“You have an office? Upstairs?”

“Um, yeah. Have you never noticed the ladder by there?” you point at a wooden ladder between the kitchen and the bedroom.

“D’you know, no, I never have noticed that.”

“Yeah, it leads to the mezzanine or the _entresol_ , whichever fancy word you prefer, and that’s where my laptop for all my research is, as well as the chinchillas; my babies.”

“How many do you have?”

“Um, weeeell, not _thaaat_ many.”

“Holtz?!”

“A few.”

“How many is a few?”

“Not that many.”

“Holtzmann!”

“Six, I have six babies.”

“SIX?! Oh, fuck me.”

“Gladly.” You say, with another smirk.

“What are they called?”

“Um, well, let’s see…there’s Dave, Darcy, George, Margaret, Steve and Betsy.”

“Quite an eclectic range of names there, babe. Please tell me they’re in cages?”

“Yes, baby, their castle is suitably sized and contained, don’t you worry. I actually have to feed them, ‘scuse me. Be right back. Oh, and they do occasionally join me in the bed. And by occasionally I mean _every_ night that you’re not here.”

“Oh, God. Well, I do like cuddling, so I guess, maybe, just maybe, I could work with that.”

“They’re like miniaturised cats. They’re cute, fluffy, don’t need a lot of work, don’t need to be walked and will probably sit on your lap, laptop, worktop or face whilst you’re asleep, but that’s _my_ job. Hey-oh! Oh, but when you’re awake. Awake! Not asleep.” You giggle sheepishly and ascend the ladder to the office space above you. A couple of minutes later you return and stand in front of Erin, who’s now leaning on the back of the armchair. “So about my children?”

“Well, they’re classed as fur babies and I’ll probably grow to love them and their cuddles.”

“Right, okay, good. Now, human babies…you want to birth my child? I mean, you _do_ have the most fertile birthing hips I have ever laid eyes upon.”

“You’re such a dick at times, Holtzmann. But, yes, most likely I will want to birth your child, but we need to take this one step at a time. We don’t even live together yet, and we’re already talking about the possibility of marriage and children.”

“Well, I have been dropping hints. It’s not my fault you’re so obsessed with yourself that you don’t pay attention to me.”

“Ex-cu-se me?! I _do_ pay attention to you. And how have you been dropping hints? By letting me fuck you on your couch and use your shower and stay the night?”

“Stay several nights…and leaving your toothbrush here and buying a new one just for yours. And, several of those skirt suits have migrated their way over here.”

“Then should we, yano, do it? Live together?”

“Um, well, um…”

Erin sets the coffee she is still holding in its cardboard carrier down on the kitchen island. “Well, Holtz, should we?”

You bite your bottom lip and furrow your brow. “I know this is gonna sound weird, baby, but, um, can I ask?”

“Go ahead, hun.”

“Um, sorry, that’s just my thing. I gotta ask. I’ve never asked and it _is_ my place.” You pause, and inhale deeply. You take your time to compose yourself and, for the first time ever, you find yourself easily asking her to move in. “Um, Professor Erin Gilbert, would you do me the honours of moving in with me on a permanent basis?”

She smiles at you and gently grabs your face with both hands before kissing your nose twice. “It would be an honour, my love.”

“I mean, we’ve passed the third date. We’ve had about six now, so a U-Haul is definitely required. Yano, cos they say, with lesbians, you bring a U-Haul to the third date.”

“Oh, see, with the straights it’s ‘Third Date Rule’ which means sex on the third date.”

“Well, oops, we broke that rule. Had sex the first date we ever had. Haha.”

“Yeah, well. I agree, regarding U-Haul. I can’t wait to tell the girls! They’ll be so thrilled!”

“Um, let’s move you in first…”

“Buuuut, they could help us move in?”

“Ohhh yeaaah.”

“It’s up to you; I don’t want to force the news.”

You wander into the bedroom to fetch your Huawei and emerge moments later having speed-dialled Abby. You wink at her and mouth the word _Abby_.

“Oh, well I guess we’re telling the girls!”

“Oh hey Abby. How’s your head? … Oh good, I don’t have a hangover either. How’s Patty? … Oh, I see. Ah, man, not good. Hey, guess what? I’ve got some news … It’s official, Erin’s moving in … Yeah, yeah, she’s on the phone to her now …” you turn to Erin and whisper at her “ _Go, go, call Patty, go._ ”

Erin winks at you and gets her Samsung from the skinny joggers she’s wearing, which she stole from you. She bites her thumbnail whilst waiting for the line to connect. “Hey Patty. You hungover, girl? … Oh, man. I’d like to tell you something … No, everything is fine … Yes, I’m with her … She’s on the phone to Abby … Mmhmm … Okay, so I’m moving in with Holtz.” Erin removes the phone from her ear as Patty screams down it.

“ _Yaaaassss, girl! Finally! I knew it would happen! So happy for y’all. Need any help moving, give ol’ Patty a call. Love ya!”_

“Thank you, Patty that would be appreciated. Love you too. See you at the lab later. Bye!” she hangs up the phone.

Through all of this, you had wandered over to the counter and picked up your coffee, only to spit it out again and nearly choke on it and your own spit. “Fuck! What?! Abby!”

“Holtz, what’s wrong?!”

“No, no, no, no, no…” you give your uncomfortable gay laughter and then continue protesting “…no, no, not just yet. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

“Holtz! What is she saying?”

“Now that you’ve moved in, I need to hurry up and knock you up so we can have baby Holtzmanns running around; mini Ghostbusters. You need to have a word with your best friend.” You hand her your phone and kiss her cheek, wandering over to start your breakfast, muttering as you walk. “I _love_ how I’m automatically a dude, by the way. I’m not _that_ masculine, even if I am a dyke. Cheers, Ab.”

“Oh, my God, I’m gonna kill her. She knows me better than that. Oh and babe, you _are_ the dude, cos you wear the trousers and it’s so obvious that you’re the Dom and I’m the Sub.”

“Thank you, not the point.”

Erin shakes her head and holds the phone up to her ear. “Hello? … Hey Abby … Slow down girl, we’re only just now moving in together … Yes, I know … Okay … Talk to you later, bye.” She hangs up the phone and joins you in the kitchen, perching on a bar stool and putting the phone on the worktop. “And don’t forget, babe, you are the top, which of course correlates with you being the dominant one.”

You blush and take her hand. “What did she say? That wasn’t much of a conversation. Babe, _dude,_ we can’t be talking seriously about kids _yet._ OHMYGOD!” you start to panic and rise to your feet before you pace up and down and flap your hands about, exhaling loudly through puffed out cheeks.

“She was forcing the baby thing on me too and I didn’t really want to hear it. Babe, it’s okay, kids are out of the picture for now. It’s strictly about you and me.” You’re still pacing in a panic, having an Asperger’s meltdown, but this time you’ve switched from flapping your hands, to rubbing them together, furiously. Erin gets up from the stool and appears at your side, as you turn to walk back towards the kitchen; she wraps her arms around you and hugs you from behind. This causes you to hyperventilate for some reason, so she switches to a normal hug and rubs your back slowly, gently rocking you simultaneously. “It’s going to be okay, babe. I promise. I’m here for you and I love you.”

You sniffle, embarrassed that you’re upset over some futuristic plans. “Oh, God, I’m sorry, I’m a mess. Thank you, babe, I love you too. I know we mentioned it, but we did that as a joke; at least I felt like we were bantering. Abby was pretty serious just then, you know what she’s like. Once she gets an idea into her head, she just runs with it, without thinking much about the consequences; like publishing ‘ _Ghosts from Our Past: Both Literally and Figuratively: The Study of the Paranormal’_ without asking your permission. That’s a long-ass title, by the way. Why didn’t you just call it ‘ _The Paranormal Study of Ghosts’_? That’s much more concise.”

“We were young, babe, we thought it was catching at the time.”

“Ah, the same as those black turtlenecks and combat pants, with matching Reebok sneakers?”

“Yup, we were cool back then.” The pair of you mosey into your bedroom to get ready for the day and sit on the bed, side by side.

“Oh, yeah, I bet you were.” You say sarcastically, with eyebrows raised and eyes wide. “Anyway, _please_ can you have a serious chat with Abby about erroneous plans; specifically those that are happening _waaaay_ into the future? Just having you move in is a pretty big step for me. I call that a personal achievement.”

“It’s okay, babe, thinking about such things is quite stressful and daunting, and not to mention nerve-wracking, so I completely understand. I’m nervous about the future too. And having to sell my apartment. Jesus, I hadn’t even thought about that. Good job you have this stunning, extremely spacious apartment overlooking Central Park. Beats having to look at the Brooklyn Bridge all the time. But, yes, I will definitely talk to Abby, she mentioned it to both of us and that’s two too many! I am, however, happy to be a part of that, and I most certainly am happy to wait for as long as it takes.”

“Please, just make sure she doesn’t mention the _m_ word. Although, I kinda _did, accidentally_ mind you, tell her that I wanted to wife you, so she might start gushing about that soon. Urgh, she’s such a nuisance when she wants to be.”

“Marriage? Yup, got it. Urgh, I knoooow. I’m her best friend and she does do my head in sometimes. I love her to pieces, but she likes to poke her nose in to other people’s affairs, and try and set stuff…and people…up.”

“Thank you, babe. I love you so much.”

“I know you do, baby. It’s alright. I’ll talk to her. It’s no problem, Holtz.”

“So, now that that’s cleared up, what’s the first order of business, Dr Gilbert?”

“You know I don’t actually have a Doctorate, just a PhD in Physics, right? I was actually an associate professor, so not actually a Doctor, just Professor. I created a theory based on the challenge of unifying quantum mechanics and Einstein’s gravity; which I so aptly named Grand Unified Theory. This was what I was going to teach in the ‘big hall’ at Columbia University. So, I attended the University of Michigan, and then attended Graduate School at Princeton, before transferring to MIT, getting my PhD in Physics at MIT and then becoming a professor at Columbia. My theory, which included a series of equations involving conformal compensator superfields, was what I was going to present to my class, shortly before I got fired.”

“Why did you let me call you _Dr_ Erin Gilbert after that crash then?”

“You were on a roll and I didn’t want to stop you. It was cute.”

“Fair enough. Tell me more about the conformal compensator superfields.”

“They were just an illustration of the failure of a once-promising Physics theory called SU. I can’t rightly remember what it stood for, but it failed. That’s all there is to tell, really. But, as an associate professor, I specialised in the study of a subatomic particle called a neutrino, which I nicknames the “ghosts of the standard model”. Again, not much I can remember about that, but there’s a little bit of background about me.”

“Well, as you know I’m Dr Jillian Holtzmann, PhD. As I’ve said often. Simply put, I an Engineer with a Doctorate in Theoretical and Experimental Particle Physics. I specialised in Nuclear Engineering, and the name _Holtzmann_ started in Engineering School. Most of the other students there were guys. Shy guys. I think they called me _Holtzmann_ so I’d seem less like a girl. You know I tried to build a Nuclear Reactor in my shed. When I was growing up, I didn’t identify with people. Not really. I mean, I faked it. But I could always make sense of stuff I could build or fix. And that was home to me. I think the faking my way through social interactions is to do with my Asperger’s. And you know my Mom hated the fact that I’m gay. You saw how she was at the hospital. Oh, yah, if you’re a graduate at MIT, then why do you insist on stealing _my_ MIT hoodie?”

“I have a white jumper; it’s too small and grey looks better on me. Fact, I look better in my girlfriend’s clothes.”

“Humph. Wear your own, bitch.”

“Fine, then, _bitch_ , I will.” She replies winking at you.

“Back to the matter in hand. What’s next, _Prof?_ ”

“Urgh, I hate that shortened version. It’s _Professor_ , okay? Well, we haven’t even eaten anything yet, so let’s start from there?”

“Where’s your breakfast?” you ask, looking about you, one eyebrow raised and brow partially creased.

“I thought you cooked it? But then we got so caught up in everything else, that we didn’t actually stop to eat it.”

“Um, I ate. And I put my plate in the dishwasher.”

“You have a _dishwasher_? That’s another thing I’m _just_ learning about you. Jesus, Holtz, you’re full of surprises. But, where the fuck was I? I’m so confused.”

“Having Patty scream at you. It’ll be in the kitchen. You’ll have to microwave it now, babe, but don’t microwave the toast! You don’t want soggy and moist toast… Yuck! I _hate_ the word ‘moist’. Why the _fuck_ did I say that?”

Erin pulls a disgusted face. “Ew, I hate that word too. Okay, I’ll go microwave it.” You boop her nose and then kiss it. She blushes, before pulling a funny face, with one eye half closed, the other wide and a stupid grin on her face.

You throw yourself on to the bed, and lie on your side, propping yourself up on your elbow, leaning your head on your palm and bending your right knee, putting your foot in line with the back of your left knee, before placing your right hand on your hip. “Paint me like one of your French girls.” You say, seductively.

“Babe, you have to be naked for that.”

“I can get nekked. I’m DTF.”

“Then what are you waiting for?”

“You, to eat.”

Erin, who at some point put her coffee in a mug, goes to leave to microwave her food, and presumably her coffee at the same instance, but you grab her around the waist and pull her, sharply, down on to the bed, and onto your lap, making you spill your coffee on you and the white bedside cabinet. She gets up and makes a cute pouty face. “Okay, babe.” She takes a step forwards and you grab her again. You repeat this action twice more, until Erin, inadvertently gets cross and snaps at you. “Stop! _Babe!_ ” she says with force. She didn’t mean to snap, but you instantaneously let her go. “I, I’m sorry, I don’t know where that came from. I didn’t mean to be harsh.”

“No, it’s alright” you say, scooting backwards onto the bed, and staring at the foot of it. “I guess I was being a bit over the top and annoying. I’ll let you go eat.” You pout at her. “Go, eat, there’ll be a surprise awaiting your return.”

“Okay, I’m sorry. I’ll be right back.” She kisses your forehead.

“And there’s a couple of things I would like to try…”

“Is that so?”

“Yah.”

“I’m in.”

A few minutes later Erin walks back into your room to find you only in your boxers manspreading on the chair, which is next to the bed (which you had moved from the opposite corner, whilst she was eating her breakfast). “Well, would you look at that, guess I’ll be top for now, eh?” She walks over to you and straddles your lap, pressing herself into you and slowly rotating her hips. You whimper as Erin smirks, her job working. She then whispers seductive sweet nothings in your ear, before nibbling your earlobe. “I’m gonna fuck you right here, in this chair, and there’s nothing you can do about it.” You gulp, audibly. And blink, wide-eyed. She then grabs your wrists, putting them behind the back of the chair, restraining you from touching. She then trails kisses from your neck, down to your breasts, where she stops to suck and nibble on your nipples, which causes another moan to escape. She grins to herself against your breast. After kissing your breasts again and leaving her own lovebite, she pulls one hand away from your wrists to pull down your boxers and expose your already wet pussy. “Now, if you can keep your hands to yourself, I’ll eat you. Touch me at any time, I’ll stop; climax or not, deal?” You nod in agreement at her and she lets go of your other wrist. Proceeding to kneel in front of you, she begins kissing your inner thighs, slowly, making a trail to your clit, which she then takes into her mouth and begins sucking, which causes you to arch your mouth, pushing yourself harder into her mouth and whimpering in ecstasy.

As you whimper, with your back still arched, you try to grab Erin’s hair, but remember the deal, so you grab the chair leg with the one hand and bite down on the other. You bite a little too hard, and taste blood, so you quickly remove it, noticing small puncture marks in the flesh. “Oh, fuck, Erin.” You whimper again and Erin suddenly stops. “What? No! Come back! I wasn’t done, I didn’t touch you.” Your girlfriend gets up, leaving you soaking and frustrated in the chair. She fumbles around in the underwear draw and returns, with two pairs of handcuffs – hers and yours, which she must have found whilst cleaning the apartment, as you lost them months ago; although you didn’t realise she had her own, very pink, very fluffy (obviously Anne Summers) ones. You shake your head and she cuffs both wrists to the upper part of the chair legs, below the backrest, smirking as she does so.

“I make the rules.” She winks at you and kneels back down again. You feel her warm breath tickling your inner thighs and goosebumps cover them. Soon she’s sucking away again, causing you to whimper for the third or fourth time. Erin keeps on licking and then slowly inserts two fingers, which makes you gasp, she smirks again and carries on. She remembers what happened the last time and makes a mental note to not go too deep and have you pass out again. Suddenly she uncuffs your hands and hooks each leg around her waist. Still fingering you, she hoists you off the chair and you clench your legs around her for fear of falling, but your legs start shaking against her, as cramp originates in your buttocks.

She removes her fingers and lays you down on the bed, before stripping off and lying on top of you. She continues fingering you, enhancing the rhythm and you arch your back for a second time and cling on to the bedsheets. Sweat drips from every pour as you reach a hot and heavy climax and Erin kisses you all over, not caring that you’re sweaty and sticky.

“Having fun there, babe?” you nod your head and feel your thighs shaking, once more, but this time under the pressure of climax. The sheets are soaked in your sweat and now they are soaked in vaginal juices as you come hard and fast. You let out a grunt, a moan and a scream, in quick succession, before breathing heavily and flopping, limply, into the mattress. Erin kisses you on the mouth, inserting her tongue hard into your mouth, you moan, for the fifth time and then reciprocate the tongue dance.

You run your left hand down her right arm and hook your left foot over her left knee, placing your toes under her shin. Twisting your hand from her tricep, to her bicep, you roll over and straddle her. You stop and look deep into her eyes, before leaning down and making out with her again. Her hands run from your back, to your butt and you bite her lower lip, before driving your hips into hers, digging your thumb into her throat, lightly adding pressure and choking her, so she sucks air through her teeth, in mild pain. You kiss down her chest and suck her erect nipples. She moans and then whimpers, as you leave hickeys on her breasts. As you bite and suck harder, her moaning gets louder and you leave her hot, pink breast, which is already beginning to bruise, to kiss gradually down her torso to her hips.

You stroke her hips, tickling her and finding a turn-on spot. She whines and you kiss her inner thighs, breathing on her clit, eliciting a moan and a squeak from her. You finger her pussy, feeling the wetness over your fingers. You get a good motion going and then stop, leaving her hanging, like she did you. You get off her and wander over to the wardrobe; opening it you find a small makeup bag at the bottom. You tell her to close your eyes and you get yourself ready.

Shutting the wardrobe door, with a light bang, you make your way over to the bed and kneel over her, without touching her. “I wanna try something with you, okay, but if you don’t like it, or it’s too weird for you, we can stop. Be vocal about it. Like, seriously, tell me straight up. I just wanna just do it, with your eyes closed, first, okay?” Erin nods, but keeps her eyes firmly closed. She places her hands over her eyes and stiffens up.

“Babe, trust me and relax.” You finger her vagina and open it out with two fingers, getting into positon, you slowly push the head of the strap-on into her warm, wet vagina and she gasps at the unexpected emergence of this toy.

“Shit, that’s cold.” Erin says.

“You’ll be alright in a minute.” Gradually you push deeper and then pull out carefully, getting a feel for your new toy, being “the man” and watching Erin’s reaction. You bought it for you both, a few weeks back, without telling her, because you often wondered what it was like to “fuck like a guy” and you didn’t want your bisexual girlfriend to miss cock too much. However, you were afraid of her reaction and so kept it a secret for the last three weeks.

Erin moans and her eyes flicker open, she watches you subconsciously poke the tip of your tongue out in concentration and smirks at you before laughing. You frown and pull out.

“No, babe, I’m laughing cos you got your concentration face on, Holtzy. Don’t stop, I was _really_ enjoying that.”

“Enjoying cos it’s a cock, or enjoying me?”

“Enjoying it because _you_ are shagging me and _you_ have a strap-on. Babe, that’s major BDE. You have _no idea_ how hot it is that you’ve got that, and you’re taking control. Did you get it for me, especially?”

“Well, _us_. Come on, you didn’t think it would be the same boring missionary position, did you?”

“Welp. I quite like missionary.”

“Of course you do, but I needed to switch it up. I was feeling a bit stagnant. And I was _hoping_ you’d get a kick from the added spice. I’m sorry I didn’t consult you, it was a surprise, and this is _really_ ruining the moment.”

“Babe, I agree, and I’m _so_ glad you got it. Now carry on and fuck me like a man.”

“ _Yes, ma’am!_ ” you exclaim. You push the dildo back in again and see how deep you can go with the 5” dick; apparently quite far as your pubic bone hits the opening of Erin’s vagina. You thrust in and out and recall that it has a slight curve; carefully pulling it out, you notice that it’s ‘upside down’ and any pleasure derived from the G-Spot would be non-existent. You turn it around, so the head curves upwards towards your belly button and you push it back in again. You thrust in and out and grabbing Erin’s hips, you tilt them towards you, before putting her feet on your hips, she instinctively wraps them around your waist, (indicative of her having done this before,) knowing full well what you are trying to achieve and helps you to get the right angle.

“If you want to get the proper cum, the white stuff, you need me at this angle…” she shuffles into position “…and you need to be fucking harder and faster than that. No cramp with it, instead of your fingers.” You keep driving into her G-Spot, before pulling out and flipping her on to her knees, so you’re behind her. “Woah, woah, woah. Babe, what’re you doing? We talked about this. No anal.”

“Babe, relax, I’m not going to do anal, I just wanna do you doggy style. I just wanna bang you from behind.” You say, pulling the side straps tighter on the strap-on, before placing the back of your hands on your hips.

“Wow, so romantic.” Erin lowers to her elbows so her tanned ass is up in the air. You moan in pleasure at the sight and bite your knuckles, just before you spank her ass.

“You like that, huh? Who’s the Daddy?” you say semi-aggressively with a hint of cockiness. Erin drops and whirls around to face you.

“Really, Holtzmann? That is such a turn off. You’re not my Sugar Daddy, you don’t control me. By all means spank my ass, but maybe do that as the strap-on is penetrating me.”

You sigh, widening your eyes and tilting your head to the side. “Not a good enough reason to use the word penetrate.” You flip her over again and she resumes her position on all fours. You locate the vaginal opening and insert your toy inside her again. Getting up on one knee, so you’re half over her ass, you take her from behind. You notice that there aren’t so many moans in this position, so you make a mental not to not do it again. You rotate her onto her back and continue thrusting deep and hard, until she arches her back and grabs the sheets, incidentally lying in the same place you were before her, so her back is now wet with your sweat, her sweat and the back of her legs are damp from your cum.

You grunt, losing the energy to drive your hips forwards and backwards in quick succession; you wonder how guys do it and then think that as soon as a man cums, he goes flaccid, whereas women have more orgasms and take longer to reach climax, ergo, you’re thankful that you’re not a guy. Abruptly you cry out in pain, having cramp in your calf. You drop, lying next to Erin on the bed, waiting for the pain to go and concurrently regaining your breath and energy. “I give up with this, babe. Thrusting is hard work. Give me wrist cramp and jaw ache any day!” and with that you ungracefully wrench off the strap-on and toss it, still wet, onto the floor. You finger Erin for a good while, before eating her out again, alternatively putting fingers in her stretched vagina. You keep this going until Erin, with a curved back, death grip on your neck and the sheets, sneezes and cums. You kiss her passionately, using your tongue as a weapon to fight hers, almost like light sabres locked in battle, she moans and you feel her smile against your mouth.

Eventually, you stop kissing and lie down next to her, exhausted. She snuggles into you, placing her head on your left breast and hooking her left leg over yours, so she’s lying on her side. You get comfortable and hold her in a loving and protective manner, before the pair of you drift off into the Land of Nod.


	19. Chapter 17

Morning comes and with it, heavy rain, lashing against the windows. It’s been a while since there’s been a downpour and it makes the sky look dark and uninviting. Erin wakes up having a coughing fit and you’re startled awake.

“You okay?” you ask, sleepily.

“Yeah…I’m…okay.” Erin says in between coughs. “I…don’t…” she coughs really hard before continuing. “Don’t know what happened. I was fine a minute ago. Urgh, what’s the time?”

You roll over and fumble around for your phone, which fell out of your pocket onto the carpet. “Nearly 2pm. Blimey, that was a long sleep, considering we initially woke at like 9am.”

“Well, you did wear us out. I’m not surprised we fell asleep, to be honest, babygirl.”

You register the five missed calls and one voicemail message – from Abby, Patty, your Mom, Dr Gorin, and Erin’s Mom. “Aw shit. Your Mom rang. And my Mom. Did your Mom try to get a hold of you?” you ask, showing her the screen. Erin gets up and wanders into the lounge, where she left her phone in her handbag.

“Yeah, she did. Four times!” she shouts. “I’d better call her back.” She unlocks her phone and presses the call button before selecting her Mom’s name. She enters the bedroom whilst the line connects and climbs back into bed. “Hey Mom … Sorry, it’s on silent … No, I’m not at home … I’m with Jillian …Yes, you remember … _Holtzmann_ … Yes, ma, my _girlfriend_ … Yes, yes, yeees, nooo, yes the ‘mad scientist’ one … I wish you wouldn’t call her that _or_ associate her with the likes of Dr Frankenstein and the real nutjobs. No, ma, she’s an engineer. And really intelligent … Yes, I _know_ Frankenstein was also an engineer and intelligent, but that man had real issues … Uh, huh, yes I’ve seen _Bram Stoker’s Dracula_ … It’s one of my faves … Okay, yeah, yeah, yup, uh huh … Mom, why have you called me four times? It can’t be to ask my whereabouts … Yes, I’m sitting down … Oh, my God, is she okay? Oh, shit … No, absolutely I’ll be there! So what was with all the random talk … _Break me in gently?_ But, Mom, you should have saved yourself the trouble and just come out with it. Yeah, yeah, yeah, I’m getting dressed now. I’ll get a cab. Okay, love you, ma.” She hangs up and jumps out of bed, throwing her phone down on the mattress and covering her face with her hands.

“Babe, what’s happened?” you ask, sitting on the edge of the bed and holding her hips.

“My grandma had a nasty fall and she’s in hospital. Mom wants everyone to visit her as she doesn’t understand why she’s in hospital. She’s got Alzheimer’s and she doesn’t see a lot of us, so Mom thinks she needs recognisable faces to help keep her calm.”

“Babe, I’m so sorry.” You say, pulling her down onto your lap, where you kiss her gently and wipe away the tears which have begun to fall. “Hey, hey, babe. She’ll be alright. Let me know when you’re leaving the hospital and I’ll come get a cab to you.”

“No, I want you to come with me.”

“But, it’s family only and I’m not family. I’m not related to you; I don’t qualify as family and they won’t let me in.”

“You’re _my_ family. You’re my next of kin and I know I’m yours. Plus, if I’m gonna wife you, then yeah, you are family.”

You pull her in for another kiss and find yourself subconsciously fondling her breast; you can’t help yourself, when she’s so enticing. “Sorry” you say, chuckling into her mouth “Not a good time to be doing that.”

“No, I think I need a quickie to get my mind off it.”

“Really, Miss Gilbert? We can’t do quick.”

“Shower sex?”

“Babe, I don’t think we’ll have time, I’m sorry. I really think we should just get dressed and head to the hospital.”

“Yeah, you’re right. And the streets at this time will be a nightmare to navigate, cos of all the road traffic. And we have to get to the one in Greenwich Village!”

“As in the NewYork-Presbytarian Lower Manhattan Hospital?

“Yeah.”

“Jesus, ain’t that like twenty minutes away?”

“Yeah, it is. At least we get to go past 30 Rockefeller Plaza.”

“I love the Christmas Tree they have. Fucking _huge_ that thing” you say, grinning widely.

“I can’t wait for them to switch it on. Ooh, we have fun.” Erin says, smirking at you.

“Heeey, that’s _my_ line” you say, harking back to the time when she tried to get into the car and you kept accelerating away from her. “Right, come on missy; let’s get you to the hospital.” She nods at you and disappears into the en-suite. Within minutes you hear the shower running and are sorely tempted to jump her bones as she busies herself in the conjoined room. However, you decide against it and contemplate what to wear, having finally dumped your overalls into the wash for the fourth time in the last few weeks.

You dig through your drawers for some suitable underwear and decide to wear your Pugtato socks, and _Star Wars: The Force Awakens_ boxers. As you try to think of upper attire, Erin leaves the bathroom to find you topless and braless.

“Hmm, I’ll never get tired of that sight.” She sighs, contently. “Well, you certainly knew how to use your light sabre last night!” she exclaims, dropping her towel to the floor and wandering over to you.

“And that’s a sight _I_ will never get tired of. And thank you for the _Star Wars_ reference.”

“Trying to decide what to wear?”

“Of course.”

“Might I suggest you do actually wear a bra to see my family? I know they’re small, but it’s cold out and I know what you’re like.”

You chuckle sheepishly and don a bra before throwing on a plain white tee and black skinny joggers. You get down on your hands and knees to search under your bed and Erin straddles your back, still wet from the shower. “Babe! I think we maybe need to discuss you riding me…Like a horse.”

“Hehe, I couldn’t resist.” She gets off you and apologises for leaving a damp patch on your t-shirt. “Sorry, I forgot that I hadn’t actually dried off from the shower. That’ll dry.”

You roll your eyes. “You had better hope so, Gilbert.” Shuffling back, you bring a shoebox with you and flip off the lid to reveal light blue Vans. “Been a while…Hello there.”

“Are you talking to your Vans?” Erin asks, putting on a pair of new skinny jeans and her long-sleeved pink top.

“No.” you lie, sitting on the bed to put them on and lace them up. You grab a green hoodie from behind the door and swing it around your shoulders, shrugging it into position, before pulling the hood up and covering your messy bun.

Once Erin has blow-dried her hair she puts it in a high ponytail, pulling two strands out to frame her face. You wander over to wrap each one around a finger, giving them a slight curl, which inevitably won’t stay put, before vanishing to feed the chinchillas again. For the first time since you mentioned them, Erin appears on the mezzanine and watches you coo over your ‘children’. You talk to each one in a baby voice and Erin stands there, silently watching you and taking in the sight of the fluffy creatures.

“Be good, won’t you? Mama’s gonna be out for the day okay, kids, so behave. Darcy, George, I know what you’re like. Stay off each other please. I don’t want to come home to find Darcy pregnant. Otherwise…yeah…you won’t have any… _balls_ …Margaret, don’t eat everyone else’s food, you’re getting fat, girl.” You raise an eyebrow at her, before lifting her out the cage to cuddle her. You repeat this with the other five, before shutting up the cage again; making sure it is securely fastened.

“You all sorted, sweetie?” Erin asks, making you jump.

“Oh, shit, hi. Yeah, all sorted. Oh, shit. Forgot deodorant, haha.” You dash down and back into the bedroom. Erin shakes her head and waits by the front door. You emerge, having deodorised and smelling distinctly of _Sauvage_ , which you haven’t worn in months. You kiss Erin and she inhales deeply, grinning as she does so.

“I remember the first time you wore that. You threw a hissy fit over Kevin and ran outside.”

“I threw a tantrum because I had a huge fuck off crush on you and you were _blind_ to the fact and it pissed me off the way you looked at and _touched_ him. We had this discussion, please don’t let us have it again.”

“Sorry, sorry. I was just saying that I remembered when you first wore it. You haven’t worn that cologne in ages.” She says, looking apologetic. You shrug.

Erin opens the door and you walk out first, before turning to switch off the main light, and letting her close the door behind you. You check it’s fully closed before locking it and checking the door handle four times. “Right, it’s locked. 100%. Let’s go.”


	20. Chapter 18

The day of the 25th Annual MotorFest arrives and with it, glorious sunshine and bright blue sky. It isn’t as cold as it has been, and larks and starlings are singing in the trees in Central Park. You and Erin walk through the park hand-in-hand, with Abby and Patty in tow. Suddenly you stop and squeeze Erin’s hand, who stops too. “Wait” you say, in a low voice, holding your hand up, to stop Abby and Patty walking into you both.

“What? What is it?” Erin asks, matching your volume.

You point towards the grass on your left, by a large evergreen tree. “Squirrel” you whisper. Everyone follows your finger and there’s a quiet chorus of _Ah’s_ before the squirrel looks up at you all staring, drops whatever was in its paws and dashes up the trunk of the tree, vanishing from sight. You frown as Erin pulls at you to keep you moving.

* * *

You arrive at the MotorFest in Brooklyn and it’s already heaving. You squeeze Erin’s hand tighter and pull her closer into your body, she senses your unease and squeezes you hand back reassuringly. “Hey, it’s gonna be okay, just don’t let go of my hand.”

“I don’t like crowds; unless they’ve been turned into statues by a Rowan-possessed-Kevin.”

“I know, babygirl, and it’s going to be alright.” She says, kissing your cheek and leading you through a line of people.

Throughout the hustle and bustle of the Festival, people are heckling punters about their lowest prices and discounts and trying to shove flyers into your hands. You get distracted by some ferrets and pull Erin towards them. You bound up to them, thinking Erin is still attached to you.

“Hey, look at this one. It looks just like you.” You chuckle, pointing at a ginger ferret. “I think it’s super cute, babe.” You look up and to each side of you before whirling around and seeing a mass of people clamouring and jostling each other, trying to get through all the stalls and the small spaces between them. Panic sets in and you look about frantically, trying to find Erin, Abby or Patty amidst the throng of people. You’re unsure of what to do: do you stay put and hope she comes back, or do you attempt to overcome your fear of huge crowds and delve in to try and look for her.

“You know, I was thinking this one looked more like you.” Erin says, appearing at the corner of the booth.

“I…I thought I lost you.” You say in a small voice.

“I know, so I retraced our steps. Abby and Patty are just up here on the left, next to the cotton candy.”

The guy at the stall raises his eyebrow behind your back and mutters something about _grown ass woman_. Erin shoots him a look, but heard what he said, so confronts him. “Have you ever thought that maybe some people have claustrophobia and crowds are extremely claustrophobic? Or, maybe, they have anxiety? Or, perhaps, Asperger’s where social interactions can give them a sense of anxiety or claustrophobia, or both? No, you didn’t. All you saw was an adult panicking about losing someone she cares about in an overwhelming place and you thought you’d mock and scorn, because on the _outside_ , she’s an _adult_ , but on the inside, on the _inside_ , you have no clue as to what chemical reaction is occurring to create a sense of panic, or which crossed wires in her brain give her the outlook of a child, due to a neurological disorder, which causes chaos and confusion in her mind. _Don’t_ judge a book by its cover, dude!” Erin turns, to see you staring at her with pride and that several of the punters have stopped to see her chastising the guy and are now in the process of giving her a round of applause. “Thank you, but I didn’t do any more than what was necessary.” She nods at the crowd, grabs your hand and storms off to rejoin Abby and Patty, anger etched on to her face.

Her face softens as she approaches, but not enough to raise questions from the other two.

“Ohhh, deeear, what’s happened now?” Abby asks, tilting her head and pulling a face.

“Oh, nothing, just some _dick_ mocking Holtzy cos she lost us and he was bullying her cos she’s an adult who was panicking about the crowds.”

“The sheer hubris of the guy! So she went off on one about claustrophobia and anxiety and Asperger’s and he just stood there, straight up shook, and she even got a round of applause from some festival goers. Shoulda seen his face man. My girl done good!”

“Wow, that’s so grammatically incorrect, even for you, Holtzy.” Abby says, playfully backhanding your arm.

“Meh, whatever. Now, let’s go see the cars!” you say, with as much enthusiasm as a young child. You grab Erin’s hand, stick your chin out, grin stupidly and pull her along the path. Abby and Patty follow and then Abby decides to lead the way. You grab hold of the backpack Abby is wearing, and, still holding onto Erin’s hand, let her guide you through the crowds, with Patty now taking up the rear.

You wander and meander in and out of people and stalls, until you come to a large field. You all stand in a line, shoulder-to-shoulder, and take in the eclectic variety of cars sprawled before you. There are Monster Trucks and Subaru’s, Jeeps and Jaguars, old vintage cars from the 30s to the 80s and there, in the centre of it all, like some shining obelisk, is the car of your dreams – the Cadillac Millar-Meteor, circa 1950s. This field is less crowded and with the energy and impatience of a child you take off, running, towards the car.

“Holtzy, wait!” Erin calls. Too late, you’re off, like a rocket, sprinting towards it, dodging people and pushchairs, skirting around dog walkers and Zimmer frames. You stop.

The car, which sits on a rotating plinth, is a sight to behold: 12” alloy wheels, faded white paint, rusty fenders, bumpers missing, broken tail lights and rusty faded hard-top roof, the back door is open and you can see it has a partial end loader, but a missing gurney. Similar to the hearse Patty originally presented, but in much less healthier condition. You grimace at its condition and sigh at its price, painted onto the windscreen - $300,000. Jennifer Lynch was not lying.

“Well, would ya look at that?” Patty says, trying to lighten the mood. “There’s your dream car, Holtzy. Needs a bit of work.”

“A bit? Patty, that’s lucky to have not been scrapped. That needs a _lot_ of work. Good job I know a guy …” you pause, looking at Patty’s furrowed brow “…and by ‘guy’, I mean _me._ Good job I can fix this beauty up.”

“Yea, but Holtz, have you seen the price?”

“Yes, it’s a rip-off, now come on, let’s go and barter.” And with that, you saunter up to the guy holding a microphone and ask him about the auction process. He tells you to get a numbered paddle and sit down. You oblige, hesitantly, and join the mill of people gathered on uncomfortable-looking chairs. Sitting down, you immediately cross your legs; lifting both feet off the ground and nervously wait for the auction process to start.

“Okay, so here we have a Cadillac, made by the Miller-Meteor Company. It’s dated 1959. She’s in a bit of an appalling quality, so I’m going to start with a lowered bid. Let’s start with $50,000 … $80,000 …” you raise your paddle, shrugging at Erin, who shakes her head as you do so. “$100? $150? $180? Do I hear $200,000?” he speaks ridiculously fast and you struggle to hear what he says. He continues throwing out numbers and you look about you to see the odd paddle rise here and there. You begin to panic, knowing you’ve been outbid. You ditch every last effort and stand up.

“We’re the Ghostbusters, we _need_ this vehicle!” You shout abruptly. The auction area falls silent and the man pushes his glasses to the end of his nose. “Hi, Dr Jillian Holtzmann, PhD…”

 _“She loves to say that_.” Erin whispers, chuckling at Abby and Patty who just roll their eyes.

You make your way to the front of the space and stand in front of the podium. The guy nods at you and indicates the microphone. You step up on to the podium and take the microphone from the guy before clearing your throat and speaking to the audience. “As an engineer, I can see she requires a lot of work. A lot of work and effort that I am willing to put in to increase her overall value. I may not be able to afford her ground price, monetary-wise, but what I can do, far outweighs any materialistic value, and will contribute enormously to the citizens of New York. Having previously owned two of these, both from the 80s, I can safely say that they are by far the most reliable vehicle than any of these fancy-pants cars out there, even if this one is from the 50s and the length and overall weight is more than that of the newer models. They have a stable weighted base, with a lower centre of gravity and handles perfectly well on corners. Granted, they’re heavier than most cars, and certainly heavier with all the equipment on top, which is necessary for our job, but they are stable and won’t rock or tip easily. They may be heavier in terms of evenly-distributed tyre-weight displacement and might not have a stupid acceleration speed or ginormous horsepower, like a Ferrari, but they are reliable and convenient and what they lack in terms of acceleration, they make up for in engine size and an air suspension system. This car may weigh around three tons and is, generally, 20 feet in length, but you have to factor in the 368 CID V-8, 6.0-litre V8, automatic transmission engine, which generates a tidy 360 horsepower; and is _much_ bigger than our 1983 Cadillac Fleetwood was, which only had a 5-litre V8 engine. The tailfins are arguably the largest to appear on a production car, and are representative of the Cadillac Eldorado, which was made in 1952; having said that, the fins are a smidge shorter than those on the 1983 and 1984 Cadillac ambulance/hearse. These 80s models also came with a soft-top roof, which was a rarity on a hearse. I therefore think, the initial ground price of $300,000 is an extortionately inappropriate asking price, given the car’s age and condition, as well as a higher need for us, than say someone who just wants a vintage car for funsies.” Your pace quickens. “Of course, if someone wants to put down $300,000 for said car, I haven’t a leg to stand on, but when y’all need some ghosts exterminating, we ain’t gonna be there, when we ain’t got a car. We tried recently to transport four Proton Packs and a Ghost Trap on the subway, and minus the several awkward and fearful looks which we received, it wasn’t the easiest of tasks. They’re about 20.5 pounds each and the power cells have a half-life of 5,000 years, which is irrelevant, when we’re discussing weight, but there was no way that we were gonna run from North Moore Street, to West 42nd Street, with 20.5 pounds of weight on our backs. Now, is anyone going to deny us the opportunity of purchasing this car and restoring her to her former glory, so that we and everyone else here…” Your pitch increases and you’re taking less breaths “…can go about our lives, until such a time as the ghosts come haunting and you’re in need of our services?” You finally take a breath. “No? Well, I shall sit down again.” You thrust the mic into the auctioneer’s chest and shuffle back to your seat, looking at your Vans as you do so. You sit down and cross your legs, followed by your arms, and listen as the murmur of conversation picks up.

“Well, I thought that was good. I liked your speech, girl.” Patty says, leaning over to pat your knee.

“Gared, why don’t you just let them have the car?” a man’s voice pipes up.

“Yeah, clearly they need it more than us.” A woman says, pointing in your general direction.

“I haven’t had a haunting for three months, since the girls came around!” another woman says, standing in excitement. Soon there is an overlap of conversation and you have to block your ears. Erin squeezes your knee reassuringly and looks around at the various people arguing for you having the car.

“Yes, but it’s being sold for a reason. That car isn’t road-worthy. It’ll be little more than an ornament in someone’s garden. It’s better off being sent to the scrapyard.” A guy in a suit yells, rising to his feet and throwing his brochure to the ground.

“Didn’t you listen to her, you twerp? She’s gonna restore it.”

“What’s she gonna do that I can’t? I’m more of an engineer than she is, considering I used to work for a garage and focused my student years on restoration projects.”

“She said she’s an engineer.”

“ _Saying_ you’re an engineer and actually _being_ an engineer is two completely different things.”

“What about the Pack-thingies?”

“Yeah, cos I’m sure she actually ‘invented’ them, and didn’t pay someone else to make them for her. Women aren’t scientists and they’re not engineers. Those are men’s jobs. Women are teachers, cooks and cleaners.”

Having heard this ordeal, you feel your blood boiling and you begin bouncing your right foot, which subconsciously made its way to the grass. You bite your tongue and hold back your backlash, but the arguing is getting too much for you. You rise in anger and rip your hand from Erin’s grasp before breathing in deeply and shouting at a deafening volume. “SHUT UP! ALL OF YOU JUST SHUT THE HELL UP! I AM SICK TO DEATH OF PEOPLE, LIKE _YOU_ …” you point at the suited man “RUNNING YOUR MOUTHS AND YOUR GODDAMN SUPERIORITY COMPLEXES THINKING YOU’RE BETTER THAN US BECAUSE WE’RE WOMEN. HAVE YOU EVER ACTUALLY STOPPED TO THINK THAT DESPITE YOU _THINKING_ YOU’RE BETTER THAN US, BETTER THAN ME, YOU ARE ACTUALLY NO BETTER THAN US AT ALL? YOU MIGHT _THINK_ YOU’RE GOD’S GIFT TO HUMANITY, BUT LET ME ASK YOU SOMETHING…” you look about you and lower your voice “what is your greatest, your biggest achievement that you can say you’re proud of, that makes you better than her, or her, or him, or me? Tell me that, and I’ll tell you whether that makes you better than us, or just the same, just as human, and a tiny fish in a big ocean like the rest of us. Go, on, I dare you. Tell me something you can wholeheartedly say made you proud. I’ll wait. Just because you are male, and I female, doesn’t mean your achievement is any greater, or any less than mine, or anyone else’s. Because it’s _your_ achievement, _your_ goal, _your_ life. Not anyone else’s. Each of us lives their life to the fullest that they can. Nobody has the authority to tell us how we are to live our lives; some may try to, like the government, or social media, or society, or what’s in the magazines, but it’s our _choices_ which defines us; makes us who we are – male, female, black, white, gay, straight, super-intelligent, average-intelligence, whatever. How we see the world and how we react to it is what makes us unique. How hard we work is what makes us equal. I don’t care if you’re a billionaire, playboy, philanthropist like Tony Stark, or you’re a kid who likes to play videogames. Nobody is better than anyone else, no matter how hard they _think_ this to be true. Now, tell me your achievements, sir.”

The man in the suit stares at you, flabbergasted, and makes some non-verbal noises, before piping up. “Well, when I was 19, I restored a 1948 Morris Minor from the state in which this car is, restoring it fully and adding a bigger litre turbocharged engine.”

“See, that’s good. When I was 19, I had created my first nuclear weapon and I took it and its cart to St. Paul’s Chapel, on Friday 13th, because, obviously, that’s the spookiest day. I managed to get the hefty weapon and cart upstairs into a room, but with great difficulty. In that moment, I decided that I was going to have to create a lightweight polymer substitute. Your achievement isn’t any less than mine is, just because I created two weapons. You restored a car! How many other 19 year olds can say they have done either of those things? Probably Einstein, but that’s a whole different kettle of fish. Now that we have established we are all equals, I think I am done here, and if there are no more objections, we’ll be taking that car for the $4,800, which I believe was the final asking price.”

The auctioneer looks at you, with mouth agape and proceeds to bang the gavel on the lectern situated atop the podium. You shrug and rejoin the others.

“And do you have $4,800 in cash?”

“No, but Mayor Bradley does, and he did say that he would be willing to pull a few strings for us.”

“When? When did he say that?”

“After we all left, he sent me an email and said “ _Should you find the car, I might be able to pull a few strings and help you along. Mayor J. Bradley.”_ So, yeah, we’ll talk with him, on the phone. But right now, I’m taking this baby home.” You stride up to the auctioneer and mention the payment from the Mayor, he sighs and you show him the email on your Huawei. He shrugs and asks for a down payment of $600, you sigh and holler at Abby who saunters over to you.

“What up, Holtzy?” she asks.

“Well, you have my wallet in your bag and I need it for a down payment of $600.”

 _“Holtzy, I know you can afford the $4,800 right now_.” Erin whispers.

“ _Yeah, but if the Mayor is paying for it, I don’t have to and I can use my savings to restore her and make Ecto-1B, babe_.” You whisper back.

“That’s an excellent point.”

Abby hands you your wallet and you casually hand the man $600, counting it out into his palm.

“Wait, you’ve been carrying $600 this whole time, why?” Erin asks bemused.

“Well, we _are_ at an auction and there was bound to be something I’d need and I could pick up on the cheap from here.” You say, shrugging and grinning sheepishly.

“You never fail to amuse.” Patty says, chuckling and shaking her head. The man nods and disappears to grab the necessary paper work whilst you catch the eye of the misogynist and glare at him.

“Too many of those pricks in the world.” You mutter, eye twitching. The auctioneer returns and hands you the paperwork, which you read in great detail, not skipping anything. Satisfied with its contents, you sign it and hand it back to him, before he drops the keys in your open palm.

“However, it isn’t roadworthy, so we will have to tow it to your office.”

“ _Lab.”_ You correct him, before giving him the address of the Firehouse. He nods and gets on a radio. Within minutes the car is loaded up and you’re offered a ride in the cabin. There’s space for two of you so Erin and Patty jump in the Cadillac, whilst you and Abby jump in with the driver, presumably so Abby can question you.

_Forty minutes later_

The driver pulls up outside the Firehouse and you and Abby clamber down from the high cabin, before the trailer is lowered and Erin and Patty get out the car. Abby pays the driver, as a thank you and he gets to work releasing the car. Once it’s down on the ground you unlock the garage door, pushing it up manually, before pushing the car from the front into the garage. You pull the door shut and wave the tow truck driver off as he disappears into the busy street.

Standing there, you put your arm around Abby, who puts hers around you and Erin. Patty pulls Erin in for a hug and you stand there, like on the rooftop, looking out at the people wandering about, ignoring the world. You disappear into the moment and do not realise you have been standing there for a full ten minutes before you shiver beside Abby. She squeezes your waist and the four of you disappear into the lab.

Once inside, you dash up the stairs to begin creating a list of everything you will need to restore the Cadillac, and thus create Ecto-1B.

“Holtzy!” Patty calls. “Babygirl, get down here, there’s a letter for you.”

You dash to the top of the stairs, before giggling to yourself and sliding down the ‘ _Stripper Pole’._ “Hellooooo ladies!” you say as you slide down the fireman’s pole. “I am tonight’s entertainment, and this baby is my plaything.” You say, as you reach the bottom, before hanging off it by one hand and grinding into it seductively. Erin flushes red, Patty stares at you with a quizzical look and Abby facepalms.

“Holtzy, man, quit playin’ and get yo ass over here!” Patty says pointing at you and then the spot beside her.

Reluctantly you let go. “A’riiiight.” You sidle over to her and take the letter off Kevin’s desk. Lying across the table, you pull open his top drawer and root around, until you find a letter opener.

“Why don’t you just use a finger, Holtz?” Patty asks.

“Papercuts” is all you say. She sighs.

Springing back off the desk, you land awkwardly and pain shoots into your ankle. You grimace, but continue to open the letter. You mumble as you read it. “Woah, that’s expensi-ah, yeah … Yeeeah, that’ll be why ... Nice one, Holtzmann, _you tit_!” you say, flinging the letter back on the desk and marching off up the stairs. Once you have reached the lab upstairs, you slam the door shut, in a huff, and Abby picks up the letter.

“Fuck me, that’s a hefty bill!” she exclaims. “$15,000 in electricity”

“Why so much on electricity?” Patty wonders.

“She’s probably been making more weapons whilst unattended. She’s a little shit; looks innocent as fuck, leave her to her own devices, and she blows shit up, and runs a high leccy bill!” Abby says, hands on hips.

“So why has she taken umbrage with it and slammed the door?”

“Because it means that’s $15,000 less to spend on restoring the car, which will be her new project, until she sees it through. She’s a perfectionist.” Erin says.

“Yes, but sometimes she can’t have it all. She’ll need to cut her cloth accordingly.” Abby groans.

“Yes, but she has her own apartment bills to take care of, as well as six chinchillas to feed and now this car. And it’s Holtzmann; she throws a paddy at everything which doesn’t go her way. Might seem to be childish to everyone else, but we know the reason behind it, but sometimes, she can be a bit childish. I mean, we love her, but you’ve got to admit, sometimes she does need to grow up a little.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. I get what you mean; it’s hard. We want her to be herself, but subject to that, she’s also gotta act like an adult and not have a tantrum and throw her toys out the pram.”

“Wait, Holtzy has tantrums? Yo, I’ve only seen her have a meltdown.” Patty exclaims.

“Oh, yeah, but like mild ones. She doesn’t throw herself on the floor, and bang her fists and feet into it, but her storming off and slamming the door just now was a hissy fit. Her storming out after I greeted Kevin back from his Hide-and-Seek Tournament was a hissy fit.”

“Also, what’s this about chinchillas?” Patty asks, mesmerised.

“They’re her children.” Erin says, chuckling. “Bless her cotton socks. They’re cute lil fur babies, I have to admit that, and they look so cuddly. But, yeah, chinchillas. Hey, Abby, gimme that letter. I’ll pay those bills.”  
“Let’s split the electricity four – no, five ways, since we all use it.”

“Alright, that sounds fair to me. Patty?”

She clicks her tongue. “Yeah, let’s sort that out. So that’s, what, $3,000 each on electricity?”

“Yeah, something like that.” Abby says.

Back upstairs, you’ve got the blowtorches out and are dancing to Jason Derulo’s _Trumpets_ whilst trying to create a plasma shield for the Neutrona Wand to cover the Shock Blaster setting; something which you have _finally_ gotten around to starting. Within seconds, you have spun around and set a piece of paper on Abby’s desk alight, but with your back turned you haven’t noticed until you spin around to see an even bigger fire. You switch off the blowtorches and dump them on your desk, before rushing over to try and blow the flames out, forgetting that oxygen is a key component. The flame leaps up and you feel it lick your face. You instantly pull away. Frantically you search for a fire extinguisher, which for some reason is downstairs. The sink up here has stopped working and so you’re forced to dash downstairs whilst the blaze begins to rage.

You slide down the pole again before running over to the fire extinguisher currently propping a door open. “I need this.” You say, before heading back to the stairs. “I’ve set the table on fire again.”

“I hope it’s not mine!” Erin exclaims.

You cock your head. “Uuuuummm… define yours, babe.”

“Holtzmann! You know what it looks like; laptop, papers stacked, files. _Please_ tell me you didn’t.”

You shrug. “I’ll send you a photo…”

“Holtzmann!” Abby, Erin and Patty say together. Without warning, there is a deafening explosion from upstairs, which vibrates through the floor.

“What the hell was that?!” they all ask you. You shrug.

“Idunno” you mumble, as if it were one word.

“Please tell me it wasn’t any of the machines.”

“Poss-ib-ly … I thought I contained it well.” You run upstairs, taking them two at a time, wielding the extinguisher. As soon as you’re through the doorway, you’re blasting the base of the fire until it’s out. “It’s alright!” you yell back down the stairs. “Only a quarter of the lab is burnt, at least not all of it.”

“YOU’RE KIDDING, RIGHT?!” Abby yells back up to you.

“WELL, I DID TELL KEVIN NOT TO PLAY WITH THE AIR FILTER PROTOTYPE PROTON GRENADE. THIS IS HIS FAULT. ALSO, HE, UM, ISN’T HERE AND I, UM, MIGHT HAVE BEEN DANCING WITH BLOWTORCHES, AND, UM, UNSUPERVISED, AND IT LOOKS LIKE I MIGHT HAVE DESTROYED THE PROTON SHOTGUN!” you continue to yell downstairs, checking to see if there is anything salvageable. You ring the fire brigade and tell them what has happened. They tell you to deal with it, as you’re in the Firehouse and hang up.

Erin appears in the doorway. “You should know not to dance with blowtorches, remember what happened last time? Why didn’t you just call us? We were only downstairs and would have happily come up to keep you company; and prevent a fire.”

“I don’t need a babysitter, darling. But I might have first degree burns and I might be missing half an eyebrow.” You say, sniggering nervously.

“Do you need to go to the ER? I can take you.”

“I have first degree burns, Erin. Cold water, babe. A&E is for third degree. I might have destroyed my phone as well; but I manage to save the SIM card, though.” You say, brandishing the SIM under her nose. She sighs and takes it from you, putting it in her shirt breast pocket.

“Just how many things _did_ you destroy?”

“The table and my stool, the Proton shotgun, my phone, the computer, the ringbinder files and the Fire Safety protocols. I’m just glad I wasn’t in here when the shotgun went off.” As soon as you say that, you get a sense of unease and shove Erin out of the way, where she falls to the floor; the yellow canister propped up on the wall explodes, throwing you off your feet, halfway across the lab, where you land on your back, winding you. Your head spins as your vision comes into focus. You sit up, cautiously, a ringing in both your ears. Your vision swims and dances and then Erin comes into focus, squatting beside you. Abby and Patty are in the doorway. Once your vision returns fully and some of your hearing, you look at the scorched wall. “Well, that explosion was one of the old gas canisters which was modified for Ecto-1A!” You shout, having no hearing in your left ear. “I’m shouting, aren’t I?” you ask at a much quieter tone of voice.

“You were, yeah, baby.” Patty says, coming to help you off the floor.

“Oh. And my left ear drum.” You say, covering your right ear and hearing nothing in the left.

“You guys okay?” Abby asks, worriedly.

“Yeah, I don’t know how we’re alive, to be honest.”

Abby helps you to your feet. “Just be thankful that you are, and _please_ for the love of God, _please_ be more careful, Holtzmann.”

“Yeah, please do.” Erin says kissing your cheek. “You should go to the ER, babe.”

“For what?”

“Your ear!”

“What about it?”

“The eardrum. You destroyed it.”

“Ruptured. The word we’re looking for is ‘ruptured’. I’ll be fine.” You reply, kissing your girlfriend on the cheek in reply to her cheek kiss.

“Urgh. You’re so stubborn.”

“No, I’m a Virgo, we’re modest. Capricorns and Aries are stubborn. Virgos are self-disciplined.”

Erin looks at you. “You are very self-disciplined for sure, you know what you need to do and get it done.”

“I’m also determined to succeed.”

“That’s true.”

You lick your bottom lip. “And you’re a Leo, which means you’re warm and action oriented, with a desire to be loved, and probably approved. I love you and approve of you and what you do. I also admire you, Erin.”

“Thank you, Holtz. I love you too.

“And anyway, being partially deaf shouldn’t make any slight difference considering that giant Stay Puft balloon popped my left ear a few months ago.”

“That is true. You yelled when you talked afterwards. Bit like today, actually.”

“I know. I was there. Thank you, by the way, for coming back.”

“Did you _honestly_ think I would stay away?”

“Well, no … I don’t … know.”

Erin kisses your forehead and grins at your half eyebrow. “I would never leave for good. Maybe for a while, but I’ll always come back. Y’all are my family. Your eyebrow, on the other hand, might not come back.”

“Well, I never thought I would have a friend until I met Abby. And then you came along. And so did Patty. And pretty boy Kevin. And, yeah, you’re family to me too. And I’ll have to shave them both off and draw them on again!” you say, laughing.

“Yeah, we’re all one, big, nerdy Ghostbusting family.”

“Bustin’ makes me feel good.” Abby interrupts.

“Yah, me too.” Patty say, pulling you in for a hug.

“Love you, guys.” You say, before you’re in a circle, hugging each other.

“Please don’t shave your eyebrows off, hun.” Erin adds, and you all fall into fits of laughter.

Abby is the first to regain her normal state. “Fucking hell, Holtz, what are we gonna do with you?”

“You’re a literal walking safety hazard!” Erin adds, poking you in the ribs. You growl at her and she raises an eyebrow. “Excuse me? Who do you think you’re growling at, madam? You’re not a dog, thank you, you’re my missus and I’m not having you growling at me.” You fold your arms and poke out your tongue, before telling her that you love her.

“Look, I’m so sorry I blew up the lab. I’m 34 and I’m acting like a fucking 5 year old. I’m _really_ sorry, I’m just a bit stressed and out of kilter and I wasn’t paying attention, again, which isn’t like me, because you know how meticulous I am. And, and, and, I’m sorry.” You say, voice cracking.

“Hey, hey, hey, hey. No. No tears, it’s fine, we’ll sort it. I’m just glad that my little Holtzy-Woltzy is still alive.” Erin says, giving you a new pet name without thinking, and kissing the top of your head.

Patty giggles. “Yeah, Holtzy-Woltzy, we’d be lost without you.”

“Did I just… Oh, well, shit. Uhhmm, okay, sorry, that was supposed to be for the bedroom.”

“Uhm, nope, nope. Uh-uh. Me no likey.” You say, shaking your head forcefully.

“Okay, note made, don’t call her that.” Erin says, nodding her head.

“Right then, so here’s a list of things we can all pitch in with.” Abby says, counting off her fingers. “Number 1, clean up this mess, number 2, pay the bills, number three, get parts together to rebuild Proton shotgun, number 4, gather together necessary parts to rebuild Ecto. Anything else I’ve missed?”

“Yah.” You say. “Provide me with coffee, lunch and snacks, but keep out of my way when I’m sorting the car, please. I can’t have any distractions, _especially you_.” You say, jabbing Erin in the chest with a finger.

“Ow.”

“Oh, sorry.”

“Yes, your majesty.” Abby jibes, half-bowing before you. You wink and smile at her.

“Oh, and let’s pay the bills first, before we forget.” Erin announces. You all murmur in agreement and go to find a working laptop.

“Oh, and I’ll need a new phone.” You declare.

You catch Erin before she leaves and pull her to one side. “So, the other day was wild, huh? Phew. I don’t think I’ve quite recovered to be honest. I find myself replaying it in my head.”

She gives you a quizzical looks before cottoning on. “I think we need to make that happen again, and soon.”

You speak quieter than you already are. “Uh, yeah. What did you think of the strap-on? I got it for you. I know how bi you are and I didn’t want you to miss penis too much.” You give your uncomfortable gay laughter and await her response.

“I told you I liked it, it most definitely represented your BDE.”

“Okay, that’s twice you’ve said _BDE_ , explain, please?”

“Big Dick Energy. Used to be synonymous with guys and _huge_ packages; now linked to strong, independent people, _and_ women. Beyoncé and Rihanna have BDE. It’s having confidence in oneself and one’s sexuality, without being arrogant or cocky. You don’t have to have a dick at all. You just exude and ooze confidence, and you _seriously_ ooze confidence _and_ charm _and_ sexuality.”

“Okay, I get that, but, erm, how does owning a dildo give me BDE, Erin.” You ask, sheepishly.

“It’s not _just_ you owning one. It’s also that you’re a top and that you’re confident with your sexuality. And remember when you held the Proton Pack blaster at your crotch and said ‘now that’s a machine’; prime example.”

“Because Rowan’s machine was a _machine;_ it was _HUGE_. Our Proton guns are tiny in comparison. A proper decent machine is like, mentally stimulating. It mentally turns me on.”

“Well, it may have _mentally_ turned you on, but it _sexually_ turned me on.” Erin says, blushing beetroot.

“Welp. What? The machine part, or the grinding?”

“The grinding. Definitely the grinding!”

“I was a bit horny that day, to be honest, Erin. I thought grinding the gun would be a distraction from that feeling. I think I actually made it worse.”

“I could tell!” Erin exclaims.

“I kept fantasising … about … us. But I didn’t know whether you fancied me then, or not.” You quickly change the subject. “So, what are we gonna do about the lab and the ear, professor?”

“Shall Dr Gilbert take a look at it?”

“The lab or my ear?”

“Your ear, babe.”

“Um, doesn’t an audiologist need to look at it?”

“I thought you said you would be fine?” she asks, smirking.

“I can help you with the lab, now, if you want?”

“Yah, I need help clearing up the mess and the debris. I called the NY Fire Department, but they were none too pleased and told me to fix it myself. I suppose they were unhappy because this is the second time in a week that I’ve set something on fire. Oh, shit, I wasn’t supposed to say that.”

“Wow, Holtz. Really? Twice in one week? I think we need to make a rule that you shouldn’t be at the lab alone.”

“Bu-but … I do my best experimenting alone. You’ll only be a distraction anyway.” You say, winking at her.

“And regarding the machine, if it made me horny to watch you grind the gun then _yes,_ I did fancy you then.”

You chuckle gaily. “Why didn’t you say something?”

“I’d rather you be distracted than starting fires, and I’ll happily be your distraction.”

“But I wouldn’t get any experimenting done and there’s enough mess on my desk, without your cum added to the mix! Plus, I, er, don’t actually remember the last time I, er, actually cleaned the desk.”

“And I didn’t say anything, because I was still coming to terms with my sexuality; or rather my feelings towards you. I was nervous and scared. I didn’t know what I was feeling, but I’m comfortable now. What’s a little cum gonna hurt, Holtz? And I’ll help you clean it, never you worry.”

“Alright, that’s fair enough, but we could have discussed it. And, really?! Cum is a liquid, it’ll fuck up all the electrical equipment! The desk will need a deep clean, and then, once we’ve done that, I’ll give your vagina a thorough seeing to! Oh, I’m such a charmer.” You say, smiling slyly.

“I know we could have discussed it, but then again, I was nervous, as I said. You know how my anxiety is. And as for the electrics, maybe the shock will enhance the orgasm!”

“I suppose, but it depends on if you want 2.5 or 50 volts on your clit. And you never told me you had anxiety, just OCD.”

“Well, I do want it fried, so the less the better.”

“How about none, unless you have a vibrator? I _could_ electroshock your nipples?”

“Well, OCD and anxiety kind of complement each other; they go hand-in-hand. It can be difficult at times, but since I’ve met you, it’s easier to deal with.”

“Well, I’m glad my boisterous, spontaneous, rambunctious, vibrant and loud lifestyle has helped you.”

“Me too. And as for the vibrator, yes, I do have one. Let’s just say my ex wasn’t very good at pleasing me.”

“That Phil guy? Who flat out ignored you when you got fired and pretended to study a chart on the wall as you walked past, or so you told us.”

“Yeah, such a dick.”

“And yet you stayed with him.”

“Yeah, I did. And I regret it. I don’t do regrets, but he was rather ignorant towards me; most days in fact.”

“And, as for the electroshocking, that could hurt, babe. You can just use your mouth, tongue and teeth.”

“No, no, no, it is stimulatory and produces extra blood flow and arousal; with a small enough electrical current.”

“Hmm, well, I’ll think about it.”

You nod slightly, but look perplexed. “Um, where do the teeth come in?”

“When you nibble, duh.”

“Oh, yeah. And when I bite your lower lip and make you moan.”

Erin grins. “Yes, I like that.”

“Well, obviously, or you wouldn’t moan.”

“True. God, I think we need to go home and get busy.”

“Why not here, Erin?”

“Other people use the lab, Holtz.”

“Yeah, and? It’s gonna happen one day.”


	21. Chapter 19

A few hours have passed since you destroyed a quarter of the lab. You and Erin stayed on to tidy, leaving Abby and Patty to go hit the nightclubs in the City. Nightclubs aren’t really your cup of tea and the ever understanding Erin chooses to stay by your side.

You’re trawling the internet, having paid the bills; you get a notification on Messenger. “Oh, shit, Abby’s DM’d me on Facebook. I think she’s both mad and drunk. Look at this.”

“Oh, shit.” Erin appears at your side and reads the message over your shoulder:

Holtzmann. Yoo asshooole. You burned my fudging desk.

What the flapjack was thaaat foooooor?

Omg, I’m Gonna kiiiill yooooou. Fuuuuukyooo.

Sent from my iPhone.

“I want to laugh because of the way she’s typed, cos I think she’s drunk. She must be; she never types like that. I also don’t know how mad she is and if she’s gonna kill me…”

“She’s not going to kill you, babe. She’s an angry drunk, is all, it’ll all blow off and she won’t even remember she sent it. And Patty’s with her, so she’ll be kept in check.”

“Oh, okay, that’s alright. Oh, wait. There’s another.”

Hoooooltzmaaaaaan. I looooove yooooou. And I want you to know I alwyZ have.

Tel Erib she has a kewwpt and that icmn sorry it dijst work out for us.

Woooo Patty sats hiiiiiii.

Sent from my iPhone.

“Wait, what does she mean by ‘Tell Erin she has a keeper and that I’m sorry it didn’t work out for us’?”

“It was just a little fling when we were working on our book. We’re too good of friends to be anything else.”

“Wait, what?! You and Abby hooked up?! Oh, shit. So I’ve slept with my girlfriend’s best friend, who slept with my girlfriend? Fuck. It’s a small world.”

“Ya, haha. A lot can happen when you grow up together and spend every day together researching ghosts.”

“So, what exactly did happen? Because I want you to know that Abby and I actually dated for six months, from 2009, when I was 24 and she was 29. I mean the plaid shirts, rolled sleeves and manspreading certainly do add up. And I thought you said you didn’t know you were gay! Ooh, baby! You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?”

“Well, we were both bi curious and made out, and I well, I felt her up. It ended very awkwardly, because we’re just friends.”

“Aw, bless. Just, FYI, I took Abby’s virginity. It ended awkwardly? Now don’t I feel like a dick?”

“Why do you feel like a dick?”

“Because Abby made a move on me, but we had known each other for two years before she did! Abby and I got quite close – personally and literally and one day, out of the blue, she just kissed me. And I was so surprised. And then I kissed her back and one thing lead to another. I felt like Abby and I were too close to just remain friends, and so I asked her out and she said yeah.”

“Damn, Abby has more game than me, it seems.”

“We had a _lot_ of sex too.”

“Jesus, Holtz. I don’t actually want to know.” Erin says, moving away from the computer.

“My libido isn’t that high anymore and you have a low sex drive, so I have to tone it down. I do way more masturbating than I ever did, Erin.”

“I have a low sex drive, how?”

“You don’t want sex as often as I do, that’s how.”

“I don’t think that’s correct, missy.”

“How many times a week do _you_ want sex, versus how many times a week do _I_ want sex?”

“Okay, that’s true. So about you and Abby?”

“Well, we met in 2007, when I was 22 and she was 27. I was an associate professor at Kenneth, and I taught Paranormal Studies. Abby and I teamed up to invent new technology based on the principles and theories in _Ghosts from Our Past_ ; during that time is when we got all close and personal, and then, well… _yano._ Then 15 years later, we met and yano the rest.”

“And before you met Abby, were there any girlfriends, or even friends?”

“Growing up, I didn’t identify with people and faked my way through social interactions. I took comfort in being able to make sense of what I built and fixed. That was ‘home’ to me, so when I found Abby, she let me work at want I wanted to work at, and never questioned me, just made sure I was safe; sometimes mothered me, but I needed the ground rules.” You sigh and fold your arms across your chest.

“Before I was known as ‘Ghost Girl’, I was all about sports. From 4th Grade to my Freshman year of high School, I played basketball, and all three years of Middle School, I played volleyball. Well, volleyball ended for me when I didn’t make the high School team, basketball ended for me when I started getting bullied by people on the team, not to mention my coach would never let me play during games; it was total bullshit and I was miserable, so I quit. That’s when I started to get into science and that’s when I met Abby. She was the only person who understood me. Even though I still got bullied because of the ghost thing, I still had Abby to fall back on. And everyone finds their own thing, and mine just so happened to be science.”

“I tried to avoid sports, until MIT, but I can see how that made you feel and I’m sorry people made fun of you.”

“It’s okay; it just sucked because I ended up leaving something I loved. Basketball was my life growing up, literally all I ever thought about.”

“Why didn’t you stay and tell everyone to fuck off? That’s what I would have done.”

“And risked seeing the Principal for the first time ever?” She says, from the middle desk. “I didn’t have the courage. It was just easier for me to leave, than to put up with everyone’s shit.”

“Same. I used to hide myself in the science classroom, conducting multiple experiments and blowing up a fair few items and setting off the fire alarm, ooh, about twelve times.”

“You were one of those kids, huh? We always had someone in the science department setting off the fire alarm.”

“But you’ve never been to the Principal’s office?” you ask, wheeling your chair across to her. She shakes her head in silence.

“Look, I’m sorry about the past. What are we gonna do about a very drunk and very fluctuating-between-hostile-and-loveable Abby and a burnt-out laboratory?”

“I think we should take care of Abby first? Then the lab, maybe even tomorrow, as it’s getting late.”

Without warning, you start giggling to yourself and laugh even more at Erin’s bemused facial expression. “Oh, and you’ll have to drive.” You say, tossing her the keys. “I can’t drive for shit. I’ve had a few beers, when you were sorting paperwork, and I might, also, accidentally, be high.” You finish, giggling to yourself as the drugs kick in.

“Wait, how the hell are you high? I’ve literally been here all afternoon.”

The laptop dings and you turn your attention to it. “Oh, there’s a message from Patty, via Abby’s phone.

Abby trying to start fights with men about her being a lesbian and females can make scientists. And that the Ghostbusters are real. So are ghosts.

Club Ecko. Come get us please Holtzy.

Patty x

Sent from my iPhone.

“Well, are we going or not?” Erin asks, as you squint at her.

“You’re driving your Camaro? Ooh, if you let me blow you at the same time, that’ll be great!”

“Holtzmann! 1) Girls can’t give blowjobs, they lick, and 2) Do you know how incredibly dangerous that is? I could crash and then you’d blame it on me!”

“Well, then you can finger me instead.”

Erin sighs. “Fine. But how high are you?”

“5 foot 3 inches.”

“Okay, new question; _how_ did you get high?”

“I think I’m susceptible to the chemical fumes, and I think the brownies I scoffed at lunch time, which were on Kevin’s desk, made by his brother, were actually weed brownies.”

Without warning, you suddenly rush up and start running around the lab flailing your arms wildly. “Oh, shit, Erin, help a girl out, would ya?! There’s twenty grey aliens with huge eyes here and they want to slap a knocker!”

“Babe, you’re hallucinating. I’m right here and there are _no_ aliens.”

You make a sort of strangled yelp and start running around the lab, before dropping to the floor and rolling about. “Erin! Erin! I’m spontaneously combusting. Ooh, fuck!” you yell, clearly starting to have a bad trip. “FUCK YES! OH, MY GOD! I’M FUCKING FIRE MAN – THE HUMAN TORCH – FROM FANTASTIC FOUR. OOH, SHIT. NO, FUCK, IT’S HOT. TOO HOT! BAAAAABE!!!” you thrash and yell, still on the floor, before you suddenly going into panic mode and lie there like a log.

Erin shakes her head, and ignores your words.

A few moments pass before you speak again. “WOO! The fire’s out, and there’s less aliens now. I think they’re afraid of fire.” You curl up into a ball, clearly tired. “I’m gonna sleep here, babycakes.” You say, giggling giddily. “Hmm, I like cake. Ooh, you’re a cake. You’re fluffy, with a good bottom. You need to have more sugar and less stick, babe. You’re killing me. Too many nuts in your apple pie. Your apple pie needs to be nut free; this is a nut free zone. But tell me, Erin, do you have any problems with your balls?”

“I do not, but you do. You’re talking about food and evidently you’re tripping balls.”

“I don’t like balls, you wiener head.”

“You’ve been talking about aliens, fire and food. Just go to sleep, babe. I’ll make sure the aliens don’t come back.”

“Okay, thank you.” You reply, sleepily, before shutting your eyes, and drifting into a vivid dreamscape.

About an hour later, you wake up, still in the foetal position on the floor. Erin is reading her book on the sofa. “Wh-wha-what happened?” you ask groggily, putting a hand to your forehead.

“Well, apparently you got high on weed brownies and the fumes in the lab; which have all gone now as I’ve opened all the windows, and you started hallucinating there were 20 grey aliens, then ran around claiming you were the Human Torch, before just lying down on the floor and going to sleep. I stayed to make sure the aliens didn’t return, and because who knows what would’ve happened if you woke up by yourself.

“Okay, but there _were_ aliens!”

“Hey, I’m not saying that aliens _don’t_ exist, but I’m pretty positive that you being high had a great deal with seeing them.”

“But I wasn’t high and there _were_ alie…Oh, my God. Noooo. I _was_ high. I accidently broke the Nitrous Oxide canisters and they exploded alongside the accidentally-set-on-fire air filter grenade. It finally exploded. Instant liquification didn’t happen, but mutilation of the lab did. I don’t understand how it didn’t liquefy us, to be honest. There’s a _lot_ of things which should have killed me.”

“What do you mean it _finally_ exploded? There was a chance of it doing so all along? Why was it even here to begin with? Well, I am glad nothing did. My Holtz is still here and that’s all that matters.” Erin says, coming over to give you a hug, now that you’re off the floor.

“If you remember, it was a prototype. I made a Prototype Air Filter Proton Grenade and then modified it to make the Proton Grenades we currently use. If you remember, Kevin was tossing it about and I told him – we all told him – to put it down and then he threw it high and I screamed, but Abby caught it and then she told me to lock it up. Well, that, plus the N2O canisters went _boom_ , and then we were thrown off our feet, and well, you can see the result … the worst that’s happened is I’ve dislocated a finger, or two … or four. Where did the weed brownies come from?”

“Of course they did, and yes, I _can_ see the result. I hope no important equipment was destroyed! And as for the brownies, Kevin, I believe.”

“That twat.”

“Oh, and what about your ear?” she asks, trying to inspect it. “And your fingers?”

You chuckle awkwardly. “If you wanna dig through all this, you’re more than welcome. Your desk is fine, by the way, it’s mostly Abby’s that’s destroyed.”

“I will, when we clean it up. Thank goodness! But for now, we’ve got to take care of Abby and Patty.”

“I’ve not dislocated them now. I have in the past, instead of dying.” You wiggle your fingers on both hands, to notice the pinky on your left is, actually, in fact, dislocated. “Oh. Ouch. Well, I’m only just feeling that. And the ear? Um, still partially deaf. Wait, where’s Abby and Patty?” you ask, leaving your little finger dislocated.

“Ew, Holtz, that’s actually pretty gross. Do you want me to pop it back into place? Hopefully, it’ll be better in the morning, but if not, we’ll have to go see a Doctor.”

“Nah, it’s funny. Look at it!” you say, shoving your hand right under her nose. “Whoohoo!” you say, ignoring the pain.

“I have no clue where they are, you’ll have to read back through your messages. Abby messaged you, obviously drunk and Patty is with her, so you know that she is too.”

“Ohhhh yeeeeaaah!” you exclaim, suddenly remembering. “Club Ecko.”

“Babe, get that finger away from me.” Erin says, gently shoving your hand out of the way. “That is actually gross. And, we had better be on our way.”

“Um, babe? Would now be a good time to ask you to pop it back into place? I tried last tine and actually fractured it. Well, hairline.”

“Sure babe…” she takes your hand and grabs your pinky, which is hanging at a weird angle. “Now, this is gonna hurt, especially since it’s the little one.” She bends the pinky straight and carefully moves it from side to side, until a popping sound is heard, followed by the finger being put back into place. “There you go, I think that’s good.”

“Oooowwww, fuuuuuck! That hurts. Mother of Dragons!”

“Oh, I’m sorry babe.” She says, kissing the little finger and your hand.

“It’ll be alright soon, don’tcha worry. Let’s go get our girls!” you shout, before dashing towards the door, grabbing your coat off the back of the chair in the process. You stop, turn and head back to Erin, planting a firm kiss on her lips. “Thank you, beautiful. Now, let’s go get those drunkards!”

Erin grabs the front of your clothes and kisses you back, passionately. “You’re welcome, babe.” As you walk away, she smacks your ass. You kiss her in appreciation, biting her bottom lip as you do so, before pulling away and running off to the garage and her yellow-with-black-racing-stripe Camaro. “Hey, you can’t bite my lip and then run off! And you call me a tease!!”

“Come and get me, Ginger Spice. Sporty Spice is outta here!” You shout as you near the bottom of the stairs. You grab her keys off the key hook and sit in the driver’s seat of the car, but you tip the seat as far back as it goes, so that it is almost flat.

Soon after, Erin approaches and gets in through the driver’s side after you, before straddling your lap. “Well, I got you.”

“Well, I didn’t go far and I did help. So, whatchu gonna do now?”

“What do you want me to do, Doctor Holtzmann?”

“We’re in a car. In a garage. And I have a stupidly sexy professor on my lap. And if I was a guy, I’d have such a hard on, right now – the fact that I’m not actually makes no difference, as I have such a lady boner for you.”

“Okay, well what about this?” Erin undoes the snaps on your paint splattered overalls and pulls them down past your breasts, so the front part is sitting at your waist. She puts a hand up your purple crop top (a nice change to the green one you always wear) finding a bare breast and an erect nipple. She massages both your breasts slowly, whilst simultaneously grinding her hips into yours.

As she does this, your hands wander up Erin’s skirt and grab her butt, squeezing it through the material, before your hands wander up under her skirt, pulling her tights down and squeezing the flesh. Erin tongue-kisses you, pinching your erect nipples and thrusting her hips harder into yours. You find your hands are now at Erin’s front, pulling her lace panties down as Erin trails a hand down your stomach to your waistband. Insanely quickly Erin pulls off your overalls and takes your crop top off.

“I like how you casually forgot your sports bra today, baby.” She says, grinning at you.

“Wait, Erin, let’s take this to the backseat; can’t be breaking your driver’s seat.” Erin awkwardly clambers into the back, pulling her heels, tights and panties off. You adjust the seat, so it’s upright, ready for driving, before ripping off your boxers and joining a still-dressed Erin in the back. “Really? I get naked, and you’re just pantyless?”

“Not my fault you wore barely anything, Holtzy.” You straddle Erin before being tipped off the backseats. “No, Holtz. I’m top today.” You’re wedged between the front and back seats and Erin rocks back on her heels, allowing you to get back on the seat, before Erin pins you down and re-straddles you.

She unbuttons her blazer and shirt, slipping them off and onto the floor. She then unzips her skirt and cover’s your eyes with it, before crawling her way up to your face. She removes the skirt, and then proceeds to sit on your face. You begin to lick at her, tasting her on your tongue, feeling her warmth and her wetness. As you do so, she gets off your face and lies on you, touching her erect nipples to yours. Her hand wanders down your body and to your soaking clit.

“Dang, Holtz. You’re soaking.”

“Yup. I told you I had a hard on.”

“Mmm, tell me more about that.” She says, kissing your clavicles.

“I’m so horny, right now. And you sitting on my face just tipped me over the edge. I just want you to make love to me, now!”

“Not _fuck_?”

“No, not today. I want to make love to my beautiful girlfriend. I love you so much and I want you for the rest of my life. And I want sex, with you, for the rest of my life.”

“I’m sure we can come to some sort of arrangement. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to eat you out.”

“Oof. That’s really sexy today. Please, go ahead.”

Erin dips her head and takes your clit in her mouth, gently sucking at the tender flesh, making it sensitive. “Ooh, babe. You taste sweet today.”

“Don’t I normally?”

“You have your own signature taste, but it’s different today. It’s similar to my taste.” Erin bows her head and carries on eating you out. As you get close to climaxing, Erin tilts your forwards, to your upper back and throws your legs over her shoulders. She takes a couple of fingers and inserts them deep into your vagina, pushing deep and hard against the G-Spot; but not hard enough to cause light-headedness. As she does so, she rocks you backwards and forwards in time with her fingers going in and out and this time, the car starting rocking faster, its suspension squeaking with each thrust.

“Jesus, babe. You’re on a roll. Don’t stop.”

“I don’t intend to, until you cum, twice Doctor Holtzmann.”

“Twice? Fuck, I haven’t cum twice in a while. We usually get interrupted.” You moan loudly with pleasure as Erin hits the G-Spot hard. Your legs begin to shake and you get cramp in your calf. “FUUUUUCK! BAAAABE! CRAMP!”

Erin lowers your legs, but still thrusts and thrusts, until you reach climax and with one last shake of the legs, tilt of the car and loud moan, you squirt for the first time. “FUUUUUUUUUUCK!!”

“Oh, my God. Babe! Shit.”

“What?” You see how wet the car seat is and how wet Erin’s stomach is and realise what has just happened. “Oh, God. I’m so sorry. I’m highly embarrassed right now.”

“Babe, don’t be. You know how many women strive for a squirter?”

“Um, is it one?”

“No.”

“Is it two?”

“No.”

“It’s one, isn’t it?”

“No, babe. Means I’ve done something extremely well, to achieve this result.” Erin leans forward and French kisses you again, ignoring the wetness on her stomach and on the seat.

You kiss her back passionately, and the two of you dress, with Erin drying her stomach on your crop top, ready to go and collect Abby and Patty from Club Ecko.


	22. Chapter 20

A few hours have passed since you destroyed a quarter of the lab. You and Erin stayed on to tidy, leaving Abby and Patty to go hit the nightclubs in the City. Nightclubs aren’t really your cup of tea and the ever understanding Erin chooses to stay by your side.

You’re trawling the internet, having paid the bills; you get a notification on Messenger. “Oh, shit, Abby’s DM’d me on Facebook. I think she’s both mad and drunk. Look at this.”

“Oh, shit.” Erin appears at your side and reads the message over your shoulder:

Holtzmann. Yoo asshooole. You burned my fudging desk.

What the flapjack was thaaat foooooor?

Omg, I’m Gonna kiiiill yooooou. Fuuuuukyooo.

Sent from my iPhone.

“I want to laugh because of the way she’s typed, cos I think she’s drunk. She must be; she never types like that. I also don’t know how mad she is and if she’s gonna kill me…”

“She’s not going to kill you, babe. She’s an angry drunk, is all, it’ll all blow off and she won’t even remember she sent it. And Patty’s with her, so she’ll be kept in check.”

“Oh, okay, that’s alright. Oh, wait. There’s another.”

Hoooooltzmaaaaaan. I looooove yooooou. And I want you to know I alwyZ have.

Tel Erib she has a kewwpt and that icmn sorry it dijst work out for us.

Woooo Patty sats hiiiiiii.

Sent from my iPhone.

“Wait, what does she mean by ‘Tell Erin she has a keeper and that I’m sorry it didn’t work out for us’?”

“It was just a little fling when we were working on our book. We’re too good of friends to be anything else.”

“Wait, what?! You and Abby hooked up?! Oh, shit. So I’ve slept with my girlfriend’s best friend, who slept with my girlfriend? Fuck. It’s a small world.”

“Ya, haha. A lot can happen when you grow up together and spend every day together researching ghosts.”

“So, what exactly did happen? Because I want you to know that Abby and I actually dated for six months, from 2009, when I was 24 and she was 29. I mean the plaid shirts, rolled sleeves and manspreading certainly do add up. And I thought you said you didn’t know you were gay! Ooh, baby! You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?”

“Well, we were both bi curious and made out, and I well, I felt her up. It ended very awkwardly, because we’re just friends.”

“Aw, bless. Just, FYI, I took Abby’s virginity. It ended awkwardly? Now don’t I feel like a dick?”

“Why do you feel like a dick?”

“Because Abby made a move on me, but we had known each other for two years before she did! Abby and I got quite close – personally and literally and one day, out of the blue, she just kissed me. And I was so surprised. And then I kissed her back and one thing lead to another. I felt like Abby and I were too close to just remain friends, and so I asked her out and she said yeah.”

“Damn, Abby has more game than me, it seems.”

“We had a _lot_ of sex too.”

“Jesus, Holtz. I don’t actually want to know.” Erin says, moving away from the computer.

“My libido isn’t that high anymore and you have a low sex drive, so I have to tone it down. I do way more masturbating than I ever did, Erin.”

“I have a low sex drive, how?”

“You don’t want sex as often as I do, that’s how.”

“I don’t think that’s correct, missy.”

“How many times a week do _you_ want sex, versus how many times a week do _I_ want sex?”

“Okay, that’s true. So about you and Abby?”

“Well, we met in 2007, when I was 22 and she was 27. I was an associate professor at Kenneth, and I taught Paranormal Studies. Abby and I teamed up to invent new technology based on the principles and theories in _Ghosts from Our Past_ ; during that time is when we got all close and personal, and then, well… _yano._ Then 15 years later, we met and yano the rest.”

“And before you met Abby, were there any girlfriends, or even friends?”

“Growing up, I didn’t identify with people and faked my way through social interactions. I took comfort in being able to make sense of what I built and fixed. That was ‘home’ to me, so when I found Abby, she let me work at want I wanted to work at, and never questioned me, just made sure I was safe; sometimes mothered me, but I needed the ground rules.” You sigh and fold your arms across your chest.

“Before I was known as ‘Ghost Girl’, I was all about sports. From 4th Grade to my Freshman year of high School, I played basketball, and all three years of Middle School, I played volleyball. Well, volleyball ended for me when I didn’t make the high School team, basketball ended for me when I started getting bullied by people on the team, not to mention my coach would never let me play during games; it was total bullshit and I was miserable, so I quit. That’s when I started to get into science and that’s when I met Abby. She was the only person who understood me. Even though I still got bullied because of the ghost thing, I still had Abby to fall back on. And everyone finds their own thing, and mine just so happened to be science.”

“I tried to avoid sports, until MIT, but I can see how that made you feel and I’m sorry people made fun of you.”

“It’s okay; it just sucked because I ended up leaving something I loved. Basketball was my life growing up, literally all I ever thought about.”

“Why didn’t you stay and tell everyone to fuck off? That’s what I would have done.”

“And risked seeing the Principal for the first time ever?” She says, from the middle desk. “I didn’t have the courage. It was just easier for me to leave, than to put up with everyone’s shit.”

“Same. I used to hide myself in the science classroom, conducting multiple experiments and blowing up a fair few items and setting off the fire alarm, ooh, about twelve times.”

“You were one of those kids, huh? We always had someone in the science department setting off the fire alarm.”

“But you’ve never been to the Principal’s office?” you ask, wheeling your chair across to her. She shakes her head in silence.

“Look, I’m sorry about the past. What are we gonna do about a very drunk and very fluctuating-between-hostile-and-loveable Abby and a burnt-out laboratory?”

“I think we should take care of Abby first? Then the lab, maybe even tomorrow, as it’s getting late.”

Without warning, you start giggling to yourself and laugh even more at Erin’s bemused facial expression. “Oh, and you’ll have to drive.” You say, tossing her the keys. “I can’t drive for shit. I’ve had a few beers, when you were sorting paperwork, and I might, also, accidentally, be high.” You finish, giggling to yourself as the drugs kick in.

“Wait, how the hell are you high? I’ve literally been here all afternoon.”

The laptop dings and you turn your attention to it. “Oh, there’s a message from Patty, via Abby’s phone.

Abby trying to start fights with men about her being a lesbian and females can make scientists. And that the Ghostbusters are real. So are ghosts.

Club Ecko. Come get us please Holtzy.

Patty x

Sent from my iPhone.

“Well, are we going or not?” Erin asks, as you squint at her.

“You’re driving your Camaro? Ooh, if you let me blow you at the same time, that’ll be great!”

“Holtzmann! 1) Girls can’t give blowjobs, they lick, and 2) Do you know how incredibly dangerous that is? I could crash and then you’d blame it on me!”

“Well, then you can finger me instead.”

Erin sighs. “Fine. But how high are you?”

“5 foot 3 inches.”

“Okay, new question; _how_ did you get high?”

“I think I’m susceptible to the chemical fumes, and I think the brownies I scoffed at lunch time, which were on Kevin’s desk, made by his brother, were actually weed brownies.”

Without warning, you suddenly rush up and start running around the lab flailing your arms wildly. “Oh, shit, Erin, help a girl out, would ya?! There’s twenty grey aliens with huge eyes here and they want to slap a knocker!”

“Babe, you’re hallucinating. I’m right here and there are _no_ aliens.”

You make a sort of strangled yelp and start running around the lab, before dropping to the floor and rolling about. “Erin! Erin! I’m spontaneously combusting. Ooh, fuck!” you yell, clearly starting to have a bad trip. “FUCK YES! OH, MY GOD! I’M FUCKING FIRE MAN – THE HUMAN TORCH – FROM FANTASTIC FOUR. OOH, SHIT. NO, FUCK, IT’S HOT. TOO HOT! BAAAAABE!!!” you thrash and yell, still on the floor, before you suddenly going into panic mode and lie there like a log.

Erin shakes her head, and ignores your words.

A few moments pass before you speak again. “WOO! The fire’s out, and there’s less aliens now. I think they’re afraid of fire.” You curl up into a ball, clearly tired. “I’m gonna sleep here, babycakes.” You say, giggling giddily. “Hmm, I like cake. Ooh, you’re a cake. You’re fluffy, with a good bottom. You need to have more sugar and less stick, babe. You’re killing me. Too many nuts in your apple pie. Your apple pie needs to be nut free; this is a nut free zone. But tell me, Erin, do you have any problems with your balls?”

“I do not, but you do. You’re talking about food and evidently you’re tripping balls.”

“I don’t like balls, you wiener head.”

“You’ve been talking about aliens, fire and food. Just go to sleep, babe. I’ll make sure the aliens don’t come back.”

“Okay, thank you.” You reply, sleepily, before shutting your eyes, and drifting into a vivid dreamscape.

About an hour later, you wake up, still in the foetal position on the floor. Erin is reading her book on the sofa. “Wh-wha-what happened?” you ask groggily, putting a hand to your forehead.

“Well, apparently you got high on weed brownies and the fumes in the lab; which have all gone now as I’ve opened all the windows, and you started hallucinating there were 20 grey aliens, then ran around claiming you were the Human Torch, before just lying down on the floor and going to sleep. I stayed to make sure the aliens didn’t return, and because who knows what would’ve happened if you woke up by yourself.

“Okay, but there _were_ aliens!”

“Hey, I’m not saying that aliens _don’t_ exist, but I’m pretty positive that you being high had a great deal with seeing them.”

“But I wasn’t high and there _were_ alie…Oh, my God. Noooo. I _was_ high. I accidently broke the Nitrous Oxide canisters and they exploded alongside the accidentally-set-on-fire air filter grenade. It finally exploded. Instant liquification didn’t happen, but mutilation of the lab did. I don’t understand how it didn’t liquefy us, to be honest. There’s a _lot_ of things which should have killed me.”

“What do you mean it _finally_ exploded? There was a chance of it doing so all along? Why was it even here to begin with? Well, I am glad nothing did. My Holtz is still here and that’s all that matters.” Erin says, coming over to give you a hug, now that you’re off the floor.

“If you remember, it was a prototype. I made a Prototype Air Filter Proton Grenade and then modified it to make the Proton Grenades we currently use. If you remember, Kevin was tossing it about and I told him – we all told him – to put it down and then he threw it high and I screamed, but Abby caught it and then she told me to lock it up. Well, that, plus the N2O canisters went _boom_ , and then we were thrown off our feet, and well, you can see the result … the worst that’s happened is I’ve dislocated a finger, or two … or four. Where did the weed brownies come from?”

“Of course they did, and yes, I _can_ see the result. I hope no important equipment was destroyed! And as for the brownies, Kevin, I believe.”

“That twat.”

“Oh, and what about your ear?” she asks, trying to inspect it. “And your fingers?”

You chuckle awkwardly. “If you wanna dig through all this, you’re more than welcome. Your desk is fine, by the way, it’s mostly Abby’s that’s destroyed.”

“I will, when we clean it up. Thank goodness! But for now, we’ve got to take care of Abby and Patty.”

“I’ve not dislocated them now. I have in the past, instead of dying.” You wiggle your fingers on both hands, to notice the pinky on your left is, actually, in fact, dislocated. “Oh. Ouch. Well, I’m only just feeling that. And the ear? Um, still partially deaf. Wait, where’s Abby and Patty?” you ask, leaving your little finger dislocated.

“Ew, Holtz, that’s actually pretty gross. Do you want me to pop it back into place? Hopefully, it’ll be better in the morning, but if not, we’ll have to go see a Doctor.”

“Nah, it’s funny. Look at it!” you say, shoving your hand right under her nose. “Whoohoo!” you say, ignoring the pain.

“I have no clue where they are, you’ll have to read back through your messages. Abby messaged you, obviously drunk and Patty is with her, so you know that she is too.”

“Ohhhh yeeeeaaah!” you exclaim, suddenly remembering. “Club Ecko.”

“Babe, get that finger away from me.” Erin says, gently shoving your hand out of the way. “That is actually gross. And, we had better be on our way.”

“Um, babe? Would now be a good time to ask you to pop it back into place? I tried last tine and actually fractured it. Well, hairline.”

“Sure babe…” she takes your hand and grabs your pinky, which is hanging at a weird angle. “Now, this is gonna hurt, especially since it’s the little one.” She bends the pinky straight and carefully moves it from side to side, until a popping sound is heard, followed by the finger being put back into place. “There you go, I think that’s good.”

“Oooowwww, fuuuuuck! That hurts. Mother of Dragons!”

“Oh, I’m sorry babe.” She says, kissing the little finger and your hand.

“It’ll be alright soon, don’tcha worry. Let’s go get our girls!” you shout, before dashing towards the door, grabbing your coat off the back of the chair in the process. You stop, turn and head back to Erin, planting a firm kiss on her lips. “Thank you, beautiful. Now, let’s go get those drunkards!”

Erin grabs the front of your clothes and kisses you back, passionately. “You’re welcome, babe.” As you walk away, she smacks your ass. You kiss her in appreciation, biting her bottom lip as you do so, before pulling away and running off to the garage and her yellow-with-black-racing-stripe Camaro. “Hey, you can’t bite my lip and then run off! And you call me a tease!!”

“Come and get me, Ginger Spice. Sporty Spice is outta here!” You shout as you near the bottom of the stairs. You grab her keys off the key hook and sit in the driver’s seat of the car, but you tip the seat as far back as it goes, so that it is almost flat.

Soon after, Erin approaches and gets in through the driver’s side after you, before straddling your lap. “Well, I got you.”

“Well, I didn’t go far and I did help. So, whatchu gonna do now?”

“What do you want me to do, Doctor Holtzmann?”

“We’re in a car. In a garage. And I have a stupidly sexy professor on my lap. And if I was a guy, I’d have such a hard on, right now – the fact that I’m not actually makes no difference, as I have such a lady boner for you.”

“Okay, well what about this?” Erin undoes the snaps on your paint splattered overalls and pulls them down past your breasts, so the front part is sitting at your waist. She puts a hand up your purple crop top (a nice change to the green one you always wear) finding a bare breast and an erect nipple. She massages both your breasts slowly, whilst simultaneously grinding her hips into yours.

As she does this, your hands wander up Erin’s skirt and grab her butt, squeezing it through the material, before your hands wander up under her skirt, pulling her tights down and squeezing the flesh. Erin tongue-kisses you, pinching your erect nipples and thrusting her hips harder into yours. You find your hands are now at Erin’s front, pulling her lace panties down as Erin trails a hand down your stomach to your waistband. Insanely quickly Erin pulls off your overalls and takes your crop top off.

“I like how you casually forgot your sports bra today, baby.” She says, grinning at you.

“Wait, Erin, let’s take this to the backseat; can’t be breaking your driver’s seat.” Erin awkwardly clambers into the back, pulling her heels, tights and panties off. You adjust the seat, so it’s upright, ready for driving, before ripping off your boxers and joining a still-dressed Erin in the back. “Really? I get naked, and you’re just pantyless?”

“Not my fault you wore barely anything, Holtzy.” You straddle Erin before being tipped off the backseats. “No, Holtz. I’m top today.” You’re wedged between the front and back seats and Erin rocks back on her heels, allowing you to get back on the seat, before Erin pins you down and re-straddles you.

She unbuttons her blazer and shirt, slipping them off and onto the floor. She then unzips her skirt and cover’s your eyes with it, before crawling her way up to your face. She removes the skirt, and then proceeds to sit on your face. You begin to lick at her, tasting her on your tongue, feeling her warmth and her wetness. As you do so, she gets off your face and lies on you, touching her erect nipples to yours. Her hand wanders down your body and to your soaking clit.

“Dang, Holtz. You’re soaking.”

“Yup. I told you I had a hard on.”

“Mmm, tell me more about that.” She says, kissing your clavicles.

“I’m so horny, right now. And you sitting on my face just tipped me over the edge. I just want you to make love to me, now!”

“Not _fuck_?”

“No, not today. I want to make love to my beautiful girlfriend. I love you so much and I want you for the rest of my life. And I want sex, with you, for the rest of my life.”

“I’m sure we can come to some sort of arrangement. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to eat you out.”

“Oof. That’s really sexy today. Please, go ahead.”

Erin dips her head and takes your clit in her mouth, gently sucking at the tender flesh, making it sensitive. “Ooh, babe. You taste sweet today.”

“Don’t I normally?”

“You have your own signature taste, but it’s different today. It’s similar to my taste.” Erin bows her head and carries on eating you out. As you get close to climaxing, Erin tilts your forwards, to your upper back and throws your legs over her shoulders. She takes a couple of fingers and inserts them deep into your vagina, pushing deep and hard against the G-Spot; but not hard enough to cause light-headedness. As she does so, she rocks you backwards and forwards in time with her fingers going in and out and this time, the car starting rocking faster, its suspension squeaking with each thrust.

“Jesus, babe. You’re on a roll. Don’t stop.”

“I don’t intend to, until you cum, twice Doctor Holtzmann.”

“Twice? Fuck, I haven’t cum twice in a while. We usually get interrupted.” You moan loudly with pleasure as Erin hits the G-Spot hard. Your legs begin to shake and you get cramp in your calf. “FUUUUUCK! BAAAABE! CRAMP!”

Erin lowers your legs, but still thrusts and thrusts, until you reach climax and with one last shake of the legs, tilt of the car and loud moan, you squirt for the first time. “FUUUUUUUUUUCK!!”

“Oh, my God. Babe! Shit.”

“What?” You see how wet the car seat is and how wet Erin’s stomach is and realise what has just happened. “Oh, God. I’m so sorry. I’m highly embarrassed right now.”

“Babe, don’t be. You know how many women strive for a squirter?”

“Um, is it one?”

“No.”

“Is it two?”

“No.”

“It’s one, isn’t it?”

“No, babe. Means I’ve done something extremely well, to achieve this result.” Erin leans forward and French kisses you again, ignoring the wetness on her stomach and on the seat.

You kiss her back passionately, and the two of you dress, with Erin drying her stomach on your crop top, ready to go and collect Abby and Patty from Club Ecko.


	23. Chapter 21

**_The week after the Holiday Period_ **

****

Sweating under the car, you pull apart the underside, and dislodge the exhaust, catching it before it lands on your face. You’re dressed in blue car mechanic overalls, tied around your waist, with a black spaghetti-strap vest top tucked into the trousers. Your ghostbusting boots don your feet and there’s oil smeared over your face, arms and hands. Adjusting yourself on the creeper board, you roll yourself higher and continue to unscrew nuts and bolts with your wrench.

Erin enters, coffee cup in hand, and you see her heels at the side of the car. Pushing down on the bottom of the car, you come out from under the back, and nearly crack your head on the dropped back’s metal trim, as you lift yourself. You clear the car and prop yourself up on your elbows.

“So, 2019 is already here and instead of celebrating it being a new year, you’re hard at work. Oh boy, you sure know how to spend January. Having fun there?” she asks, smirking at the stains on your face. You wipe a hand on your brow and add more grime to what’s already there.

“Absolutely.” You lie, ignoring her comment about it being a new year.

“Here’s your coffee, babe.”

“Ah, steaming sump oil. Champion.” You take the mug off her as you sit cross-legged on the board. It rocks forwards and you spill hot coffee on your lap.

“Perhaps _don’t_ sit on the board with wheels.” Erin offers.

“Good point.” You hand her back the mug and wander over to the chair which has been camped-out in the corner since you moved. You grab it and wander back over to the car, before unfolding it and flopping, unladylike onto the hard surface. “IKEA chairs are great!” you exclaim before taking the cup off her and slurping it loudly.

“So what needs to be done?”

“Urgh. So much, babe. Like … oh, God … I’m stressing out just thinking out it.”

“Okay, well, breathe and tell me, slowly. And if I can help – like hand you a spanner, or a wrench or a hacksaw, then let me know and I will.”

“Well, so far, I’ve succeeded in getting the rusty exhaust and the catalytic converter off the car. They were so rusted; they were practically fused to the underside.”

“You need one of those car platforms.”

“Well, if I could afford one, or a mechanic, I’d get them to do it, but I can’t, and I’m overprotective over my toys and gadgets, so, erm, nope, I’ll just lie under the car and sweat it out.”

“Well, sweating’s good for you anyway. Clears your pores.”

“Not when you’re covered in oil, grease and grime it don’t.”

“Okay, point.” Erin says sipping her coffee, which she had picked up from the top of the mechanic’s toolbox on wheels.

You slurp yours loudly again and get it on the floor, before clambering back on to the creeper board.

“Do those skateboards work?”

“It’s a creeper board. I actually tried a skateboard from my cousin when I fixed my Uncle’s car. Same effect, less stability and comfort.”

“Fair enough. So what’s the plan of attack now?”

“Strip her down to the skeleton and see what needs doing and go from there, really.”

“Do you need me to go and leave you to it, or can I help in some way?”

“You can hand me the tools as I ask for them. You do know what’s what, don’t you?”

“Sort of. We can give it a try.”

You slide under the car and slide the exhaust out behind you, followed by a rounded box – the catalytic converter. “Hey, babe, move those out of the way, would ya?” you ask from under the car.

“Okay, where do you want them?”

“Out of sight, out of mind.”

“So, anywhere?”

“Anywhere. And then, hand me the monkey wrench would ya? It’s the blue tool with the weird metal thing; looks like a backwards J.”

“This …?” she asks, handing you the tool. Your left hand comes out the side of the car and you take it.

“Ta very much.” You wrench away at the underside of the car, giving Erin various broken and rusted bits and passing tools between you. With one final _clang_ of the spanner on the concrete flooring, you slide out from under the car and begin working your way around it.

You open the passenger’s-side door and open the glovebox, before kicking it in and exposing the wires. You leave them hanging out and pull off the steering wheel before doing the same thing. Erin hands you a pair of wire clippers, as per your request, and you go about ripping out the various wires, before getting out and popping the bonnet. You disconnect various components and pull out the Delco Group 27 battery, which you hand to Erin. You then disconnect the water and oil pumps and carefully grip the 6.3 litre V-8 engine. You instruct Erin to grab the other side and together you begin lifting the engine. It’s too heavy for the both of you, so you put it back in and Erin disappears to recruit Abby, Patty and Kevin. The four of them return, and the five of you, under your instruction, haul the engine out and onto a workbench. You nod at them and they leave the garage.

You continue stripping down the car to the bare frame until each part is scattered across the garage. Having discovered that the battery and engine are re-usable, you leave a sticky note on them as a reminder to put them back in.

_A few hours later_

You fabricate a completely new body for the car and begin putting it all back together, welding it in the places where it needed to be. Dashing around the vehicle, you put pieces back together again and make sure everything is aligned and working correctly.

You wake Erin from her afternoon nap and she retrieves the others. Carefully putting the engine back in, you reconnect each element, before stepping back to admire your handiwork. You smile at the discoloured, but new car and rub your hands on a cloth, which you tuck into your waistband of your overalls.

You place the backs of your hands on your hips and sigh contentedly.

“So, what did you do to her, apart from the obvious stuff we can see, like a new body?” Abby asks.

You suck your teeth and lick your bottom lip. “So, overall, she has had suspension work, new shocks, brakes, brake pads, interior lining, a new steering box and transmission, a modified rear end, to allow for a smoother running of the gurneys, and I’ve also raised the end to avoid it dragging on the floor when cornering, there’s new rings, new headlights, new seatbelts, a new muffler and a little bit of wiring. Oh, and airbags. As the original didn’t have any; they weren’t required until the 80s.”

“So not a lot then?” Abby asks, sarcastically.

“Nope. Now all she needs is a paintjob, the emblems and the roof-rack and she is as good as new.” You set to work, priming the body for the new paint, and the girls help you to paint it, whilst Kevin makes more coffee. “Okay, so the main body needs to be white, and this time, she’s gonna have a red roof, red trims and red ‘No Ghost’ instead of pink, _Patty_.”

“Hey, we’re ladies, I thought pink would be cute. Plus, it did match the pink-red soft-top roof.”

“To be fair, it did, but this is a hard-top, so, no pink.”

“Spoilsport.”

You roll your eyes and pull down your goggles, before adding a facemask and white latex gloves. You cover the bits which are going to be red and begin spraying the surface of the car with a metallic white base, covering the whole body. Once this has dried, you add a Clear Lacquer to make it glossy. After a while you are able to add the red side stripes, which Erin paints on with a steady hand. Abby, in the meantime, prints off two large ‘No Ghost’ logo car stickers and Patty sets about painting the fins red.

Once each layer has dried, you carefully add the emblem to each door, making sure they are straight, before pulling off the backing. You make sure there are no bubbles and finally pull off the protective sheet unveiling the whole car.

Three cups of coffee later, you’re polishing up the ghost bonnet ornament, which you had mailed to you from your cousin who makes metal bonnet ornaments. It’s not quite the same as the first, but it is close enough. You set about attaching this to the bonnet, before the four of you step back, arms around each other’s waists and admire the work you’ve all put in.

“There we go, good as new.” Erin says.

“Better than new.” You say.

Kevin hands you a package, which he had signed for, and you rip off the top. You tip it up carefully and out slides two customised license plates – Ecto-1B. They’re both yellow with blue tops and black writing which read _New York_ at the top and _Empire State_ on the bottom. You affix these in their respective places and proceed to polish the ghost embellishment, again.

“Now for the finishing touches.” You say. You wander over to your workbench and begin measuring out metal bars, cutting each at a precise dimension, unknown to the others, but scaled up to you. You call each member over and hand a bar to them, instructing them to hold them whilst you measure up the roof. Having done so, you make a point of attaching each part together at very precise angles, using Mathematical formulae, before climbing up a step ladder and throwing a dust-sheet over the roof. You clamber up top of Ecto and have the other four slowly push the roof-rack towards you. You try not to stand on the roof to dent it and instead kneel on it, stepping over the bars as they come towards you, on your knees. You line it up and begin to drill holes in the roof for the screw attachments. Once the necessary holes are in, you commence attaching the rack to the roof.

As you work, you pull the dust sheet from under the rack and toss it to the floor. Continuing, you make sure each screw is tight before stepping on the ladder and descending it. You wander around the car, making sure the rack is attached properly and straight before disappearing to the toilet.

On your return, you’re dragging a large box full of an assortment of tools. You enter the garage bum-first and Erin playfully slaps it, much to her amusement, your annoyance and Abby and Patty’s embarrassment.

You let go of the box, before kissing her quickly on the cheek and then getting in the driver’s side and wriggling in the dark-red leather seat. You pull the key from inside your bra and put it in the ignition. You breathe in deeply and hold your breath as you turn the key. The car roars to life and you clap your hands. “YEEHAW! WOOHOO! BABY’S UP AND RUNNING! WOOOOOO!!!” you shout from inside the car, despite the others being 2 feet away. You get out, leaving the engine running and pop the bonnet.

“Boy, she’s got an impressive purr.” Abby says.

“Abby, this is a growl; the purring was from the Mark I Proton Pack.” You say, staring at the engine, before shutting the lid and clicking it into place and shutting it off with the key. “Now to get all the parts on the roof.” You add, stretching out.

“Yeah, what the hell is actually on the roof, Holtz?” Patty asks, looking at the box of _stuff._

“Glad you asked. I’ll tell you each part as I add them.” You pull the box closer and heft a large object over your shoulder before climbing the step ladder and strapping it down. After this you ascend and descend the ladder, hauling objects and positioning them as you go. “This is the Baseline PKE Reference Cell, next we have a … ugh … Power Cell … and … oof … Pumping Lines … Proton Pack Pump-Out Connection … and … the … Turbopump Set … the … OhmyGod … Ectoplasm Analysis Unit … Jesus, why are these all so heavy? … Long-Range Psychokinetic Energy (PKE) Scanners; that’s the rotating red beam … Positive and Negative Polarised Spectral Foam Detectors … of course, a Loudspeaker, to tell people to _Move Bitch, Get Out the Way!_ Whoo, this is light, oh, Holtzy did good … Next we have the Hydrogen Tanks and Reserve Liquid Helium Dewar – the silver canisters, which I told you to not shoot at, because it was basically a Nuclear Reactor; hence the Radiation Symbol painted on most of these … this is a Hydrogen Tank and last, but not least, the Proton Pack Spectral Charge Grounding Line. Oh! I almost forgot, the Police light-bars, in red and blue, the Siren and the Super Slammer Muon Trap; I had to remake this, which was a great effort, due to running out of parts. God, I love dumpster-diving! So much shit to salvage; and legit shit … and rubbish stuff. Aaaand … weeee … aaaare … dooooooone! All done; all secured, holding fast and screwed in. Ladies, I present to you … drum roll, please …”

The girls slap their thighs, creating a drum roll.

“ECTO-1B! Thank you and goodnight! I’m here all week.” You give your Lesbian Salute and climb down the ladder, stepping back to admire your roof equipment. “Perfect. Time for a nap.” You say, spinning on your heel and marching out the door. The others watch you leave and admire their shiny new object.

“Tell you what, Holtzy, ain’t done a half-bad job!” Patty says, breaking the silence.

“No, yano what, she hasn’t, I agree.” Erin says.

“She’s so proud of herself, and for once, she should be.” Abby concludes, chuckling.

“Yea, I’m gonna go see if she’s alright. She hasn’t had a middle-of-the-day nap in months!” Erin says, leaving Abby and Patty still looking at Ecto-1B.

She catches up to you. “Holtz? Holtzy? Holtzmann!” she says, catching you halfway up the stairs. You turn rotate and nearly lose your balance. She dashes up the stairs and catches you. “Oh, my God. You can’t even walk up the stairs without falling for me.”

You smirk and blow air through your nose.

“I fall for you every day, Erin. Not gonna lie. Every time our eyes lock, my heart skips and every time you smile, I get a thumping heart and butterflies. I’m _really_ in love with you.”

“I know you are, baby. I’m really in love with you too.” She pulls the front of your graphic tee and closes the already-small gap between you. She snogs you right there, on the stairs, tongue in your mouth, making you weak at the knees. You sense Abby and Patty’s arrival, but continue kissing her and blocking the stairs. You even ignore Abby loudly clearing her throat at you to move, flipping her off over Erin’s shoulder and letting your middle finger linger in the air. Finally you part and you fall backwards onto the step, hitting your backside hard on the metal trimming. You catch your breath and sigh with love and happiness.

“And, and that … that, that –”

“Takes your breath away?” Erin finishes.

“Yes, oh, my God, yes, it really does. I don’t know what you do to me, Erin Gilbert, but I’m so fucking crazy about you.”

“Well, I’m so _fucking_ crazy about you too, sweetheart.”

“Get a room!” Abby jokes.

“Oh, piss off. You know you love it.” Erin says.

You’re still sitting there, bewildered, like a deer in headlights, before Erin helps you up and walks alongside you, your fingers interlaced. As you near the top, Erin’s free hand gropes your ass and gives it a gentle squeeze. She then finds your back pocket and places her hand in it, so she’s in contact with your ass. She gently rubs it through your combat trousers as you enter the lab upstairs.

Closing the door quietly behind you, you head towards the loveseat sofa and she squeezes your ass, before grabbing your wrist and spinning her into you. Your back is to her front and in this position her one hand slips up under your shirt to your sports bra, where it immediately goes inside and she starts massaging your breast. Her other hand wanders down to, and then in, your waistband and she starts rubbing the outside of your boxers, teasing you, as she likes to do. She pinches your nipple and you spin around to snog her again, driving her backwards towards the steel desk in the centre of the lab.

“I thought you were going for a nap?” she asks, after pulling away from your lips.

“Well, I was, then somebody grabbed my butt and my pinched my nipple, so now, I’m gonna have to teach them a lesson.”

“Ooh, I have been bad, Holtzmann.” Erin says, seductively.

You reach the desk and sweep everything off it, romance movie style, letting test tubes and vials fall and smash on the floor. You grab Erin and rip her blazer off; actually ripping the sleeve in the process. You launch it across the room and push her into the desk, so her back is to your front. You pull up her skirt and notice, for the first time, she isn’t wearing any tights. You hand goes straight into her lace panties and you notice she’s already wet. You finger her for a few minutes before spinning her around and lifting her up, by her hips, onto the desk, pushing her back into the centre. She puts her hands behind her and knocks off a phial of Hydrochloric acid.

“Oh, not my favourite Hydrochloric acid. Again.” You say, sadly.

She giggles and apologises. You sigh, but she pulls you in for a third kiss. In this position, she is vulnerable and you get down on your knees, spreading her legs as you do so. You disappear between her legs and you start giving her head. Grasping her butt-cheeks, you push her further into your mouth, as you suck her clit hard. She moans in pleasure and tips her head back.

You continue doing this before you get up and pull her off the desk, sweeping everything off it; papers, files, notebooks, playing cards, tools. It all falls to the floor with various _clangs_ , _thuds_ and _rustles._ You tap the top of it and Erin unzips her skirt, throwing it to one side, before taking off her shirt and underwear. You unbutton your combats and attempt to pull them off _over_ your boots. You give up and scramble to untie your bootlaces, and take them off, before throwing them, and then your trousers, over your shoulder. You pull your tee off from the bottom to the top and start kissing Erin again, continuing even as she sits on the table. She grumbles about it being cold, but you overlook her comment.

Lying down, she wriggles to get warm and you hoist yourself, gauchely, up on to the tall-legged desk and on top of her. You make out again and your hand wanders down to her soaking wet vagina.

“Someone’s drenched.” You mutter, in between kisses.

Erin covers her eyes, before relaxing. “I’m extremely horny today, so yeah, no doubt.”

You laugh at her comment. “It’s normally me who’s the horndog!” You continue fingering her – deep and hard, making her moan loudly. This gets you all excited and soon you’re pulling her off the desk and driving her into the wall, hooking one leg around your waist, still fingering her as you do so. She moans loudly again and you walk her into various objects around the lab, overzealously. She knocks a few items off Abby’s desk, namely pens, and the office phone off Patty’s, where it _beeps_ as the receiver is off the hook. She spins around and you do her from behind as she reaches around to pull your hips into her. You stop your work and pull off your boxers and sports bra, dumping them at your feet.

Erin seizes this opportunity to take control of you, and you find yourself moaning at her contact. She gets down on her knees and proceeds to give you head; as you’re still standing, you become jelly-legged and have to pull her up to stop yourself from falling. She fingers you and as you both stand there, you start to finger her too, so you’re both at it synchronously.

Erin breaks free and becomes the dominant one again, driving _you_ into various spaces of the lab this time. As you continue having sex on nearly every surface in the lab, you successfully destroy almost every object in your impassioned haste. You pull on each other’s hair each time you go down on each other, your moans filling the room, getting louder each time you get close. Finally, almost exhausted, you flop down on the couch, to finish your heated lovemaking.

Erin, still in control, makes one final ‘ _come hither’_ motion on your clit and you cum, coupled with a big orgasm. You moan loudly and sink down into the sofa, momentarily catching your breath, before bestriding her and biting her neck and nipples. She whimpers at the pain, but let’s you continue. You slow down your pace and tease her clit with your index finger. Struggling to contain her excitement and ecstasy, her legs shake, before she gives her usual high-pitched sneeze; shortly before she screams with pleasure and has an equally big orgasm, ejaculating with white cum this time. She pants in exhaustion and you lie down on top of her, sweaty and overheated; skin sticking to hers.

You both lay there, cooling down and regaining your energy and slowing your respiration and heartbeats. Once back in your normal states, you get up and wander around, picking up your clothes from their various places throughout the lab. Dressing again, you kiss Erin on the top of her head and mumble something about having some lunch. She agrees and the pair of you, leaving the laboratory as dishevelled as your hair and Erin’s makeup, head back downstairs.

As you head down the stairs, Erin tenses up. “What’s up, babe?” You ask, catching on to her tension.

“Sounds like you guys had fun…” Abby says, not looking up from the reception desk.

“…and you presumably made a mess, chicas.” Patty says, still reading her magazine.

“That. That’s what the problem is.” She whispers, gripping your arm tightly.

“Ohhhh.” You reply, as she nods at you.

“Um, yeah.” She replies sheepishly, cheeks going rosy.

“Oh, shucks, Er. Look, I’m not embarrassed, and neither should you be. So we got a little carried away, that doesn’t mean it wasn’t sexy.”

“No, I agree, it was really hot, and, um, sexy. I’m just embarrassed that they, they, they, they know.” She says, stuttering through embarrassment.

“Honey, you were both _really fucking loud_. There was no way we would _not_ have heard you.” Abby says, doodling on a pad.

“You’re lucky there’s no Kevin. That would have been worse. Although, we have all seen Holtzmann naked, so I don’t think he even cares at this point. So you guys had sex. Big whoop. You’re both consenting adults and madly in love.” Patty adds, flinging her magazine to the side.

Abby clears her throat and looks up at you both – hair a mess, Erin’s makeup smudged, proud grin on your face, mortified look on Erin’s. “So, how’s the lab?”

“You, erm, might … not … wanna … erm … go in there.” She stutters.

“Oh, give over. Lab’s trashed; lots of things broken. HCl on the floor, I’ve acid-burned my socks. Major clean-up needed.”

“Do we need to deep clean any surfaces?” Abby jokes.

“Probably.” Erin says in a low voice.

“Yeah, we had sex on every surface.” You say, triumphantly.

“Holtz!” She cries out, highly ashamed.

“What?! I’m not ashamed, babe.” You taunt.

“Yes, bu-I-wh-sh-wh –”she grunts in frustration. “I _am._ We’ve fucked and fucked the lab up.” Erin interjects, before you snog her to shut her up.

“Babe, everything is replaceable. I literally don’t give a shit you’ve had sex in the lab.” Patty says, coming over to give you a hug as you break apart from your missus.

“Well, it’s a _little_ inconvenient…” Abby starts to say; you shoot her a look. “But, yeah, I agree, there’s nothing we can’t replace. You two are getting more action than me and Patty combined.”

“Hey! Don’t paint me with that brush, thank you.”

“Oh, and babe, you’re _so_ romantic. _‘Urgh, we fucked_.’” You say in a fake male voice.

“Why you say dat?” She asks, pouting.

“Because we didn’t _fuck_ , babe, we had straight up scorching, erotic, passionate sex, and whether you’ll verbally admit it, here and now, you _know_ you enjoyed it, as did I. So shut up about it, deal with it and just embrace the fact that we had wild sex in a laboratory – that’s like RomCom movie shit, right there, and it was amazing. Probably the best we’ve had, except the time I used that strap-on.”

“OHMYGOD! NOOO! BAAAABE! THAT’S BETWEEN MEEEE AND YOOOOU!” Erin says, overly loud, before sighing dramatically and covering her face with both palms. “Oh, my God, I’m just, just, oh, my God. I’m just gonna die, right now. Fuuuck!”

You pull her into a hug and whisper in her ear. “ _Babe, baby, it’s fine. Please stop worrying. Any girl would find two other women having sex empowering and such a turn on. Everyone has a little bit of lesbian, or gayness within them – go back to the Greeks and the Romans; full on homosexual orgies – and I wouldn’t be surprised if those two were turned on from hearing us. Please, just stop worrying about it and just embrace it_.” You kiss her forehead and she sighs again.

 _“Alright, fine.”_ Erin whispers back. She speaks in her normal voice. “Okay, so Holtzmann and I destroyed the lab from our feisty sex.”

“We should probably all pitch in to tidy it up and I’ll set about cleaning any cum stains off the sofa.” You add, jokingly.

“God, you’re such a boy.”

“Bro…” you begin.

“I had your fucking tongue in my mouth no less than five minutes ago, so don’t you fucking dare call me ‘bro’.” Erin replies, huffily, suddenly changing her tune.

“Oh-kaaay, baaabe?” you ask in cautious rhetoric.

She sighs, exasperatedly. “I’m not your _bro_ , I’m your girlfriend, I don’t even like it when you call me _dude_.” She inhales deeply and an awkward silence fills the room. “Sorry, that was uncalled for. I was way out of line.” Erin speaks softly, breaking the quietness. “I think I’m hangry, please can we go and get lunch?”

“Yah, I agree, I’m feeling hungry and pissy too. Let’s just all get something to eat. And, sorry, I won’t call you ‘dude’ or ‘bro’.” you riposte, taking her hands in yours. She closes her eyes and the two of you stand there, brows pressed together, in momentary bliss.

You decide to take Ecto-1B for a spin and so the four of you enter the garage. “Where’re we going in this badass motherfucker?”

“San Matteo’s pizza place!” Abby and Erin shout in unison.

You turn on the ignition and open the automatic garage door, now that the garage remote is attached to the sunvisor, and listen to the engine roar into life. Once the door has locked into place, you carefully drive out the garage, before signalling left and pressing the _Close_ button on the remote. It slides down and as it auto-locks you head off towards the pizza place.

The traffic is rather dense, and your bellies are growling, so you abuse your power and turn on the siren, making people get out of the way. You accelerate down the road, tyres squealing on the tarmac, siren blaring in the mid-afternoon and soon, in as little time as possible for busy New York lunchtime rush hour, you’re outside the small pizzeria.

You switch off the siren and park up, grinning to yourself. Abby, to your right, tips her head at you and shakes it slowly. Clearly she’s unimpressed that you used the siren on a non-ghostbusting day, but then you see the corners of her mouth twitch and she too is smiling.

“Hey, I didn’t use the lights; we’re not breaking any Federal Laws!”

“Remember, we break Federal regulations using our ‘distinctly un-American sounding siren’ every day, Holtz.” Abby says, mockingly. “Agent Hawkins said so, remember that?”

“Yes, I do, but exactly _how many_ do we break?”

“Nobody knows. I don’t even think Agents Hawkins and Rorke know.” Abby concludes.

“Guys, can we please just go and get something to eat, I’m wasting away here!” Erin says, pointing at her stomach.

“Yeah, you are looking a little skinnier than normal, Er-bear.” You joke. She grumbles at you and gets out of the car.

As soon as you enter the pizzeria, you’re overwhelmed by a gaggle of teenagers, who have recognised you from the TV and are all wanting autographs and selfies with the Ghostbusters. You each smile and pose with the six individuals before a slim brunette, wearing a pink flannel shirt, leggings and cat ears, nervously asks for solo shots with each of you. You bite your bottom lip and nod at her. You see her tense up and smile at her reassuringly, before complimenting her on her outfit. She smiles sheepishly and the two of you take a photo together. She smiles, thanks you quietly and proceeds to ask the other three for photos as well.

“ _How you doing?”_ Erin whispers, after her photo has been taken.

 _“I’m alright, actually. I think she’s just as nervous as I am, so it kinda makes it all okay.”_ You say, pointing to the girl in the pink flannel.

 _“Huh… she reminds me of you… a little.”_ Erin says, giving a half smile.

 _“Thanks”_ You say, digging Erin in the ribs.

Soon after, the six teens disperse and Patty is quick to find a four-seater table. She sits down and loudly calls you over. “C’mon guys, we’re all hungry and we gotta eat. I keep telling ya that low blood sugar is serious.” You and Erin nod at each other and wander over to the table. You watch the teens outside the window and the brunette gives you a half-wave, before throwing her oversized coat on and pulling up the hood. You watch her walk in front of the window and you give her a wave back when she looks in the window for a second time. She nods at you and disappears around the corner.

You join the girls at the table.

“Margarita pizza?” the waiter calls and Erin tells him it is hers.

“And we have a Meat Feast?”

“Good golly, that’s huge! But yea, that’s mine, ta.” You say, leaning back into your chair, so they can put the 15” pizza in front of you.

Fairly swiftly you’re all gorging yourself on massive pizzas, trading slices with each other and laughing and joking about various ghostbusting days and rebuilding the Ecto. Luckily for you, Abby and Patty haven’t mentioned the lab sex and Erin, thankfully, hasn’t mentioned any of the other times you’ve ‘done the deed’ (as she sometimes refers to it.) You and Patty laugh heartily, complete with you snorting, and a few customers give you pair dirty looks. Erin shushes you and pats your knee, from where she is sitting next to you. You wipe literal tears from your eyes and sit there, breathing deep, trying to calm down.

The tone changes as you begin to open up to them, for the first time since it happened, about the time you were incarcerated. Although the pizzeria is quiet of people, you still lower your voice, to a little more than a whisper, as you unfold the story for them. You spare no detail, expressing how naked you were for a full day, before you were sent to one of the male blocks and given clothes – the look of horror on their faces, mirroring your feelings during that time.

You tell them, accurately, what Mr Druitt said and how uncomfortable he made you feel and then you eventually get to the part where you’re all assigned jobs. “Craig tried to put me in for laundry and I was basically saying that it was hella sexist and that I’d be better suited for the engineering side. He, and a few others, laughed at me and although I took it in my stride, it was an insult to my profession, as I’m sure you’d all agree.” You breathe deep and prepare to launch, verbatim, into what you told them. “So then, so then, I said to them _“_ _Actually, I am a Nuclear Engineer, a Particle Physicist and a former lecturer at the Kenneth P. Higgins Institute. Prior to that I studied at MIT and gained my PhD in Physics, and more importantly Quantum Mechanics; therefore, you are in the presence of someone who holds a Doctorate and who has an IQ of 163. So, I beg you, please try and tell me that I am not suitable to be working the job of an engineer”_ which, in all fairness, they looked preeetty stunned, cos I basically made them look like fools, but then some guy piped up about having an M.A. and we discussed that, then I told Craig to stop beating on me cos I’m a woman, and cos he is homophobic, and then I quoted Shakespeare at him, aaaaand sat back down.” You exhale and speak in a sing-song voice “Safe to say, I got swapped on to engineering duty.”

“You looove throwing that in other people’s faces, don’tcha, Holtz?” Erin asks, shaking her head. You shrug and say nothing.

“Sometimes, you _really_ are a show-off, Holtz.” Abby chimes in.

“Weeeell, I’m _proud_ of my titles, thank you very much.”

“I know, I know, I know sweetie. Sweetie, we _all_ know, but you don’t hear Abby and I waffling on about our IQs or PhDs or what have you.”

“Sorry that I hyperfocus on that.” You say, looking at your lap.

Erin rubs your arm, soothingly. “Hey, no, we understand that you’re proud, but sometimes it comes across as having a big head and a big ego to match and, um, well, you seem, err, to, um…”

“You seem like a dick, Holtz.” Patty finishes.

“Well, I wasn’t going to go _that_ far, Patty.” Erin says, giving her a look of annoyance, with wide eyes.

“Oh, yeeeeaaah, you dooo have a point. I…” you make some non-verbal sounds “…can be a dick with it all. I’m sorry. Sorry guys.” You say, laughing it off and not sounding the slightest bit offended.

“You okay?” Erin asks, slightly concerned.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, no, no, no, I’m good, I’m good. Patty has a point, I can be big headed, aaaaand I do have an ego, and, and, and, that just goes completely against the whole, eeeerr … BDE thing, so, uuuum, _yeah_ I, I, I’ve got that covered.” You say, repeating words more than usual.

Erin raises an eyebrow at you “Alright, if you say so.”

“I’m good. Erin. _I’m good._ ” It’s your turn to soothe her and you smile at her, one of your devilish smiles and she shakes her head, before kissing your lips and returning to her pizza.

“So how’s the livin’ together goin’?” Patty asks, coming to the end of her pizza.

“Yano, really fucking well.” You say, exhaling as you speak.

“And the children?”

“Happy as Larry.” You say, staring off into space and thinking about them. You stare at the stone pizza oven for a good five minutes, without even realising it, until Erin, snaps you out of your stupor, by shaking you and clicking her fingers in front of your face. “Sorry, where was I?” you ask, turning to look at your colleagues.

“You were staring at that oven. I thought for sure you were gonna just get up and walk into it; Bird Box style.”

“Aheh. No, not a chance.” You say, rubbing the back of your neck.

“Good, I was really worried for a minute then. Have you seen that show?”

“Meh, only like the first half an hour, or so.”

“I’ve heard it’s really good.” Abby adds. “Ooh, you know what _is_ really, _really_ good?” she asks, suddenly very excited.

“What?” you say, trying to match her enthusiasm.

“The eleventh season of _The X-Files_ is now available on DVD and Blu-ray, and there’s a boxset of all eleven seasons on Amazon for $96.46… And _that’s_ Blu-ray!”

“OhmyGod, I _looooove_ that show!” you exclaim. “Gillian Anderson as Dr Dana Scully though. OhmyGod, she’s hot. Yano, she’s the one which confirmed my sexuality all those years ago. I went as Dana for trick-o-treating one year, I’m not even joking.”

“Of course you did” Erin replies, half disbelieving you and kissing the top of your head.

“No, no, I did. There’s some photographic evidence somewhere. Probably amongst some of my childhood things, at my Mom’s apartment, but that’s a story for another day.”

“Well, I’m sure it’ll turn up – if you want it to.” Erin says, throwing a meatball at your plate. It rolls off the edge, and falls onto your napkin on your lap.

“Oi, that was rude.”

“Sorry, I was trying to share. And chances are I would’ve missed your mouth.”

“How? It’s big enough.”

“Heh. I suppose.”

 _“Girls, keep it in your pants, please. We’re in public.”_ Patty whispers.

 _“Patty, we’re not gonna turn this into some weird fetish, don’t you worry!”_ Erin replies, keeping her voice equally as low. You roll your eyes at the pair of them and finally finish your pizza.

You laugh and joke for a few minutes more, before arguing about who’s paying the bill and scrabbling to throw in $10 each. A waiter comes around and clears the table of all, except the money, and a young girl appears holding a notebook and card machine. She looks at the receipt and the pile of cash, before collecting it all and rooting for change in her apron pouch. She places the correct change on a silver dish, smiles at you, asks how your meal was – to which you all respond that it was “Excellent” – she then nods and leaves you to sort yourselves out; grabbing your coats and bags, and in your case, RoboCop wallet, which has somehow found its way over to where Abby was seated.

As you head towards the exit, your phone rings in your pocket – Bananarama’s _Cruel Summer._ You fail to register that it’s your mobile ringing, and, thinking it’s playing in the restaurant, you bop your head along to the funky, pop tune and ignore your phone. You exit the pizzeria and the music has stopped, so you deduct that it _was_ in fact inside the restaurant – until it happens again.

“Okay, is it just me, or can anyone else hear Bananarama?”

“No, I can hear it too.” Patty replies.

Erin looks at you and wanders up to you, as if to give you a hug, before fiddling around in your pockets and pulling out your Huawei which is playing Bananarama. “You’ve got your music playin—oh, no, it’s your Mom. Want me to—?”

“NO! Don’t answer. Leave her to stew.”

“Um, babe, you’ve got three missed calls.”

“Meh, whatever. She can fuck off.” You say, snatching your phone and rejecting the call. Sliding it back into your pocket, you shrug at the girls and take the lead down the street. Erin shakes her head and takes off after you, her heels clicking on the concrete. You disappear into various shops, swerving in and out of people, coming to a halt and dashing off again as the girls approach. Soon enough, you return with your hands full of bags. “Grocery shopping.” You say to the girls’ perplexed faces. They roll their eyes at you and you heft the bags towards Ecto. As you’re struggling, you stop to place the six bags on the floor. Abby and Patty grab one each, leaving you and Erin to carry 2 each. You nod in thanks and saunter back to the car. As you approach, you begin to fumble for your keys, almost dropping the bag containing the eggs in the process. Patty sees it tipping and carefully takes it from you. You grunt and pull your keys, tangled up with your headphones, out of your pocket. You chuckle, awkwardly, and unlock the car with the headphones still dangling from the keychain. You contemplate installing an electric unlocking system, but conclude that the retro-feel of the car would be even more diminished what with the entire roof decked out with modern tech.

Opening the boot, you pull out the empty rack and place the shopping bags on it, before sliding it back in with your bum and pulling the door closed behind you. Pushing it, until you hear an audible _click_ , you nod at the girls and open the driver’s door. You sit in the seat, but feel uncomfortable, so you do your ‘Comfy Dance’ in the seat – wriggling to get comfy, before relaxing into the seat. You lean over to the passenger’s side and open the glovebox, pulling out an 80s CD and putting it into the CD.

Pressing play, the first bars of the synthpop song plays through the speakers, and you’re singing along, including the instrumental notes, with Soft Cell. “Sometimes I feel I’ve got to … _bop, bop_ … run away, I’ve got to … _bop, bop_ , get away from the pain you drive into the heart of me…” You start dancing in the seat, rocking the car left to right. You smirk, remembering the other night, before bursting into song again: “I toss and turn, can’t sleep at night. Once I ran to you, now I’ll run from you. This tainted love you’ve given; I give you all a boy could give you, take my tears and that’s not nearly (you air grab) aaaaalll. Tainted love, oh, oh, oh, tainted love...” Feeling eyes burning into the back of your skull, you clear your throat, turn over the key, thrust the car into gear before checking your mirrors and pulling out, driving off towards your apartment, leaving the song playing out the speakers, but nudging the volume up as you drive.

As you approach standstill traffic, due to roadworks, Elton John’s ‘I’m Still Standing’ comes on the stereo. You whistle a few lines of the verse, before winding down the window and poking your head out, loudly serenading a teenage couple on the pavement. “Don’t you know I’m still standing better than I ever did? Looking like a true survivor, feeling like a little kid. I’m still standing after all the time. Picking up the pieces of my life without you on my mind…” the teens recognise the song, probably not by Elton John, but from the movie 2016 _Sing_ and join in, pointing at you jiving in the car “…I’m still standing, yeah, yeah, yeah. I’m still standing, yeah, yeah, yeah!” You skip a few songs on the CD, that you’re not really interested in and settle on _‘We Built This City’_ , which you avoid singing, until you hear three other voices shouting “WE BUILT THIS CITY ON ROCK AND ROOOOOLLLL!” and soon, all four of you are shouting, in varying tones, on and off-key, the lyrics to the upbeat song.

Finally, you’re moving again, albeit at a snail’s pace, and you’re tempted to put the sirens on to get people out of the way, and then, as if reading your mind, Erin suggests you hooking up the Bluetooth on your phone to the loudspeaker on the roof and blasting _‘Move, Bitch, Get Out The Way’_. You inform her that as much as you’d like to, sadly the loudspeaker isn’t Bluetooth compatible and literally only the speakers would suffice in moving cars out of the way. You opt to sit in the traffic, and, lowering the volume of the radio, you wind the window back in, having caught wind-chill from the frosty December wind. Your phone rings in your pocket again, and you sigh, before letting Erin fish it out, almost dropping it under the pedals. Somehow, she Ninja catches it and reads the screen “BITCH FROM HELL?” she asks.

You chuckle. “Yeah, but I’ll need to change that.”

“Dare I ask to what?”

“Nope, but you can answer the phone if you so wish.”

“Nah, you’re alright.” Erin says, letting it ring.

You _finally_ pull up outside your apartment and clamber out, filing at the back, ready to collect bags. This time, Patty and Abby take two and you and Erin take one each, so you have a spare hand for the keys and various doors. You give the boot a substantial shove and it slams shut. Waddling over to the driver’s side, you put the key in the door and lock it, checking the door handle twice. You nod at Ecto, grin at yourself in the mirror and follow the girls into the elevator.

Once upstairs and inside your apartment, the four of you unpack bags and you decide to call your Mother back. Of course, she doesn’t answer. “Bloody typical, aye! She rings me all fricken day, I ring her, and does she answer? Nooo!” you sigh loudly and toss your phone onto a couch cushion. You flop down onto the couch, and the others, grumbling, sighing and yawning join you too. Sat in the middle with Abby and Patty on one side, and Erin on the other, you close your eyes contentedly. You feel Erin kiss the top of your head and then hear her soft snoring, and, within a matter of minutes, the four of you are fast asleep on your couch.

At some point during the night, Abby and Patty had left and you’ve found yourself in bed, next to Erin.


	24. Chapter 22

You wake up in a cold sweat, shivering against the clamminess of your skin, and the cool morning air; you fell asleep with the window open again. You roll over to cuddle Erin, but soon you’re too hot. You sigh and throw back the covers, exposing her in the process.

“Excuse me?” she asks sleepily. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m too hot.” you complain, as she covers herself with the duvet.

“Yes, well, Miss Goldilocks here is comfortable, I thank you very much.”

She spoons you and feels you shivering, so she pulls the blanket over you, and you’re suddenly very hot to the touch, but you’re still shivering. “Baby, are you okay?” she asks. “You’re sweating buckets, but you’re shivering too. I think you’re coming down with something.”

“I’m really hot, babe, I can’t sleep. I’m gonna get a glass of water.” You say, climbing out of bed and spinning out in the process. “Woah, Nellie!” you exclaim, grabbing hold of the bedside cabinet. “Oof got dizzy then. Must’ve got up too quick!” you add, cheerily, before sauntering off into the kitchen, moonlight catching on your bare back, through the centre of the curtains.

As Erin begins to drift back off, she is startled awake by a crashing in the kitchen. She dashes out, to find the tap still running, a smashed glass (thankfully in large chunks) on the floor, the cutlery holder on the sink upturned and you, momentarily unconscious, on the tiles. She places a wet flannel to your forehead to cool you down and slowly you open your eyes.

“Wha-what happened?” you ask, confused.

“I think you fainted, baby.” She says, pressing the lukewarm flannel to your still-hot skin. “Stay there, I’ve got a thermometer somewhere. I need to check your temperature.” She disappears and returns with a rectal thermometer.

“Um, babe, no, that’s the wrong one. That’s for—”

“Your butt, I know.” She replies, trying to sit you up.

“But, I don’t wanna … Can’t you take an oral reading instead?”

“I could, but it won’t be a true measurement. Rectal thermometers are the best for checking temperature, as oral and armpit readings are too low. Now, if you could just get on all fours, that’ll be great.”

“Normally, I’d be highly enthusiastic to be on all fours, but I’m very self-conscious of that going up my butt, so, erm, no.”

“Babe, we can do this the easy way, or the hard way?” she asks, pulling down your boxers and exposing your butt to the air.

“What in the name of science is the hard way?” you ask, as Erin shoves the thermometer up your anal cavity, quick and hard. “FUCK ME SIDEWAYS!” you yell. “THANKS FOR THE FUCKING WARNING. NEXT TIME, TRY SOME FUCKING LUBE, YOU PSYCHO!” You bear down, grit your teeth and dip your head into the floor, so your buttocks are in the air and your muscles are more relaxed.

“There, that wasn’t so hard was it?”

“You try having something shoved up your ass, and tell me it doesn’t hurt.”

“Um, well…”

“Oh, Jesus, I don’t wanna knoooow” you say, whimpering as she pulls out the thermo, more slowly than she put it in.

“Fucking hell, Holtz, 103°F! You’re definitely coming down with the flu or something.”

“You sure that’s not just from having something shoved up my butt and my muscles becoming inflamed?”

“Nope, that is your temperature. You need to sweat it out, take medicine and starve it, if it’s a fever.”

“Good, cos I ain’t hungry anyway.”

“Feed a cold, starve a fever. That’s what my Mom always taught me.”

“ _Greeeeat._ Now, my butt is sore, and I’m still thirsty.” You say, gingerly picking yourself up off the floor, and pulling your underpants up. Erin casts the thermometer aside, and sweeps up the broken glass with a dustpan and brush, before holding you at arm’s length, stopping you from proceeding, until she’s hoovered it up. You roll your eyes at her, but stare down at your bare feet and nod at them, taking into account what happened the last time you stood on glass.

Once the glass has been hoovered and the Dyson put away, you attend to your needs and get a glass of water, before proffering Erin the glass. “Want one too?” you ask. She nods and graciously accepts the offering. You pour another glass and head back to bed. Once snuggled under the covers, Erin appears with her First Aid kit and sits you up. You protest and grumble, but do as you’re told.

“Medicine, then back to sleep.”

You whine at her like a puppy, but she takes no notice of you and continues to search for Lemsip, cough medicine and Strepsils. Producing all three from her Mary-Poppins-esque bag, she takes care of you, making sure you swallow the vile-tasting cough medicine, before stroking your hair and singing you to sleep.

“Soft kitty, warm kitty, little ball of fur. Happy kitty, sleepy kitty, purr, purr, purr.”

You giggle sleepily. “You’ve seen The Big Bang Theory too many times, haven’t you?”

“Yes, Doctor Sheldon Cooper, PhD, I have.” Erin jokes. “Yano, you remind me of him so much.”

“Thank you.” You say, yawning big. You close your eyes, and within minutes you’re fast asleep; sweat forming on your brow as your temperature soars.

* * *

You wake up in another cold sweat and reach for your water. You mutter something about the Doctors, but Erin, fast asleep, doesn’t hear you. So instead, you mutter something about head and somehow this gets her attention.

“Say what now?”

“Oh, so you heard that, but not what I said about the Doctors?”

“I was dreaming and heard head, as I was thinking about it, so I guess that slipped into my unconsciousness. What were you saying about it?”

“That I would love that right now, and have a make out sesh, but I don’t want you to kiss me and get all sick.”

“I don’t care if I get sick. I still want to kiss you.”

“But we don’t know what I have.”

“That’s okay.”

“It could be contagious!”

“I’ll be fine. I’ve survived multiple Class V ghost attacks; I think I can survive a little illness.”

“Okay, I love you, so, so, so much.”

“I know you do, Holtz. I’m tired, let’s try and sleep.”

“You can say that again.”

“I won’t.”

You both close your eyes and drift off into an ill and overheated sleep.

* * *

The deafening sound of the alarm clock buzzing fills your ears. You have a pounding headache and a sore throat, but you’re a lot less warm than you were at 1am. Erin switches it off and you lie there, in the half-light, watching the pale white sky through the slit in the curtains. Without warning, Erin draws back the curtains and blinds you with the light.

“ARGH!” You yell. “Baaabe, nooo! I have a headache.” You grumble and roll over again, screwing your eyes shut, tightly.

“Sorry, sorry. You still not feelin’ well, honey?”

“No and I don’t want you to leave. You have to stay and babysit me.”

“But you don’t need a babysitter, that’s what you keep telling me.”

“Yes, but I’m poorly, so I need looking after.”

“You’re just milking it because I have to go to Brooklyn to see the family.”

“But I am your fam.” You say, sulking.

“I know you are, sweetpea, but my Mom needs me to go and visit. My grandma’s finally home from her fall – well, her operation _because_ of her fall.”

“When did she have the operation?”

“Shortly before Christmas; sadly spent Christmas Day in the ward – hence why I wasn’t around, although you probably didn’t even notice.”

“Not gonna lie, I slept most of the day, except to go down to Joe’s for a turkey dinner. You remember Joe, right? Tall guy, blonde, hipster glasses?”

“Yeah, the nice one, who reminds me of Kevin, only smarter.”

“Yeah, him. Anyway, he opened his home for people who were on their own at Christmas, and I went to help out and I got a free luncheon, so I was happy. As were all the guests.”

“Well, wasn’t that sweet of him? Glad you had fun babe, and I’m sorry I wasn’t there to celebrate it with you.”

“Hey, no worries. I’ll see you when you’re back. In three days, right?”

“Unfortunately, Mom needs me there for a week. Well, eight days, so I’ll see you then. If you need help, call Abby and/or Patty. Okay? I love you.” She says, kissing your clammy forehead and wrinkling her face up. She picks up her suitcase, which you hadn’t even noticed was packed and whisks it, and herself, out the bedroom door. You follow her and kiss her goodbye, on the cheek, before waving her off in the corridor. Shutting the door, you turn the lock and sigh to yourself.

You then saunter, glumly, over to the large window overlooking the street, and knock on the window. She looks up, as she approaches her car and waves at you. You wave back and watch her drive away, before turning to the settee and collapsing in it.

Turning the TV on, you absentmindedly flick through the channels and settle on _90 Day Fiancé._ You’re not really paying attention, just filling the void which Erin has left – you hadn’t realised how much you had become used to her company, and now, with her gone, the house is eerily quiet. You get up and feed the chinchillas and set about making yourself breakfast, although you’re not really hungry. You feel lost without her and you don’t know what to do. You put the box of cereal back in the cupboard, shut the cupboard door and turn off the TV, before heading to your bedroom and getting back into bed; you aim to try and sleep some of your illness, and now, loneliness away.


	25. Chapter 23

The days pass by slowly and, around the fifth day of Erin’s absence, you feel a lot better, although you still miss her. She hasn’t been in contact with you today, and it makes you feel sad. You pace about the lounge, impatient, frustrated and bored, waiting for your phone to ring – a text, call, email; something from Erin to ease your tension.

You’re fed up of pacing and decide to gather your things and head to the lab to do some tinkering. You shoot a quick text to Abby telling her of your plans and requesting that she came to not only give you company, but to keep an eye on you as well.

Pulling up outside Abby’s you honk the horn and she appears in an upstairs window.

“I’ll be there now, Holtz!” she hollers, with a slightly raised voice.

“Don’t be too long, Ab, I’m bored!” you yell back.

Soon enough the front door opens and Abby appears through it, her arms laden with a multitude of books, files and papers. You fling open the car door, before bounding up to her and grabbing some of the paperwork from here.

“Jesus, these are heavy. What’s all this?”

“Research, Holtz.”

“For what?”

“ _The Yates-Gilbert Equation_. I’m making a simplified and updated version, which coincides with the practices we’ve put into place.”

“Ah, okay. Sounds fun.”

“Yeah? And what will _you_ be doing?”

“Tinkering. Making shit, breaking shit, and rebuilding shit.”

“Just don’t be setting shit on fire.”

“Heh. That’s where you come in. Keep me company and make sure I don’t start any more fires. I’m accident prone – well pyrotechnic prone.”

“Walking safety hazard; we’ve told you this.”

“Yeah, and I agree. Now let’s gooooo! I’m bored. Not having Erin around is killing me. I mean, I have a bit more freedom, cos I don’t have her bossy OCD ass telling me what to do, but it’s too quiet without her, I miss her, and I _do_ miss her being a bossy boots.”

“I know you do. You’ve called me to supervise you. You never want supervision.”

“Maybe it’s about time I _start_ having supervision. I am like a special needs kid, yano.”

“You _are_ a special needs kid, Holtz, but you’re our special needs kid, so don’t ever forget that, okay?” she tells you, before giving you a kiss on the cheek.

“Thanks, Ab, I appreciate it. Now, come on!” you say, whining impatiently. You dump the paperwork you’re carrying on to the backseat and she does the same with her things, before climbing in the front passenger’s seat and buckling up. You shut the backdoor and jump in the front, slamming the driver’s door, a little too zealously. “Ooh, sorry baby, I didn’t mean to slam you that hard.” You say, stroking the door frame and patting the top, where the window joins the door. Abby just rolls her eyes.

Clicking your seatbelt into place, you do your checks, before putting the car into gear and driving off. You hit dense traffic and you sigh; all you ever seem to do is hit traffic, or ghosts. _“I’ll take ghosts over traffic any day”_ you mutter to yourself. Just then Abby’s phone _pings_ and there’s an alert on her website.

“Hold that thought, Holtz, you might have just gotten your wish, girl.”

“What?” you ask, drumming your fingers on the steering wheel.

“Class IV apparition near the zoo; terrorising the civilians, especially the kids.”

“Aww, but I like the zoo.” You say, pouting.

“Who ya gonna call?”

“GHOSTBUSTERS!” you yell, together.

“Swing by and get Patty. It’s a Class IV; the three of us can deal with it.”

Now you’re stuck in stand-still traffic, you get your phone out; put it in the phone holder, in the air vent, and speed dial Patty’s number.

“This is Patty. I’m not here right now. You know what to do. Peace!”

“Uggggghhhh!” you groan, stressing the non-verbal sound and your frustration.

“Maybe she’s busy?” Abby offers, unhelpfully.

“Well I _know_ that. But, she’s not allowed to be busy, when we’ve got a ghost to catch.”

Bananarama plays and you swipe right to answer. “Patty?”

“What up, girlfriend?” she asks, sounding chipper. The sound echoing off the interior of the car, as you have her on loudspeaker.

“Patty, what are you doing?”

“Um, watchin’ some TV. _Gravity_ has just started.”

“Set it up to record, we’re coming for you.”

“Okay, when you put it like that Holtz, it don’t sound good.”

“Yeah, well Class IV at the zoo.”

“Aw man, I love the zoo.”

“Yeah, me too. Stick it on record, get your ass up and dressed, we’ll be there ASAP. As soon as this damn traffic—yano what, fuck it, the siren’s going on.” You flick the overhead switch labelled _SIREN_ and the two marked _FRONT LIGHTS_ and _REAR LIGHTS_. The siren blares through the streets and echoes off the cars and buildings. Slowly cars move out the way. “Come on, come on. Haven’t got all day people. MOVE!” you yell inside the car. Your patience is tested, as the cars in front of you, inches their way to the left and the right. You grab the in-car radio, which you’ve never used before, and press the button on the side. The radio crackles, and the loudspeaker on the roof relays your message to the people; reverberating off the metal cars and glass windows. “Alright people, listen up, we’re the Ghostbusters and we’ve got a Class IV Apparition causing havoc. Y’all better move your asses, or y’all become a part of this operation, and by a part of it, I mean, I’m gonna start ramming cars out of the way. In the politest way possible: get out of the way!” it seems to have done the trick and cars start veering off, left and right, leaving a path, not a very wide path, but a path nonetheless. You weave in and out of the traffic, sirens and lights still on until you get to the traffic lights up ahead. The lights are on red, but you have your sirens on. Checking left and right, you see cars approaching from both sides. You have a split-second decision and so you slam your foot on the accelerator and gun it over the box junction, causing cars to slam on their breaks and honk their horns at you; some flipping you off as they do so. Before long you reach the other side and speed it all the way to Patty’s – lights and sirens giving you the all-clear.

“Whoo boy, that was close, Holtz.”

“Haha! Yeah! Ooh, feel the adrenaline pumping through your veins.”

“Yes, I feel that, but I also feel like we broke a few laws.”

“Eh, whatever. We’ve got sirens on; we legally can break those rules.”

“Um, Holtz, hate to break it to ya, but we’re not the police, or the military, so actually, technically, we can’t, so we just broke the law.”

“Oh, shush. Stop your kvetching and just enjoy the power we _do_ have. Ooh, also, we got new ID badges! We have to wear them on all paranormal investigations, but they’re so cool.”

“And _when_ did we get these?”

“Uhhhhhmmm---Friday?”

“And it’s Monday today. And you didn’t think to tell us on Friday, or over the weekend?”

“Weeeell … I, I, er, I … did forget, but the good news is, they’re in the office, ready and waiting for us. We all have one. Well, except Kevin, because he isn’t actually a Ghostbuster, but don’t tell him that. We’ll make him a fake one for the office.”

“Yo, an’ who gave them to us?” Patty asks, still on the phone.

“Oh, hi Patty. You’re still on the phone. Ah good. Well, um, Mrssss---uuuuhhh---what’s-her-name?”

“Mrs Lynch?”

“Yeah, right, right, right. Yeah, her. She came in on Friday afternoon, and said, and I quote: ‘These are from the Mayor. You _must_ wear them on all operations. They’ve been issued by the Mayor, in accordance with the State of New York. You all have an active status, and you are hereby fully licensed to carry out paranormal investigations. However, your permit for the use of nuclear particle accelerators is pending. They have been backdated to when you first started working – 14 July 2016 – and will continue to be in full effect, so long as you don’t have a monstrous fuck up and then we can’t take your licenses away from you. So, be good, hunt ghosts, and, er, yeah, don’t fuck up. That way, we don’t have to real-arrest you, not fake-arrest you and we don’t have to real-suspend you. Got it? Good. I’m done, goodbye.’ Aaaand that was it, she plonked them on my desk, and with a swish of her trench coat, which by the way, eer-wh-a…never mind, she was out the door.”

“Huh, so we’re fully licensed. Well, go us, I suppose.” Abby says.

“Yeah, good thing too. But what about the pending status?”

“I dunno. Suppose it means we can still use the Proton Packs, but try to minimise damage; haha, who am I kidding? We’re not gonna be able to do that – ghosts are little shits. They disappear and reappear whenever and wherever they feel like it.”

“Yeah, well, Holtzy, if we’re going to the zoo, we’ve gotta be careful. I’m not killing no endangered species.” Patty says. You can hear here getting ready over the phone.

“Right.”

“So how we gon’ do this, Holtzmann?” Abby enquires.

“Uuuuhhh, don’t kill the animals.”

“You’re a dick, you know that right? Way to state the obvious, Sherlock.”

“Heh. Yeah, well, anyone else got any bright ideas?”

As if on cue, Abby’s phone pings with a new alert. “Ooh, change of plan. No longer at the zoo.”

“Ah, bugger, where now?”

“New York Public Library.”

“Ah, shit.” You say, pulling up outside Patty’s Mom’s house. “Yano, I got banned from the Public Library when I was a teenager.” You say, completely blasé about the whole thing.

“Now, this I gotta hear.” Patty says, before hanging up and appearing in the doorway of the house. Her Mom is with her and you get out to greet Mrs Tolan.

“Mrs Tolan. Always a pleasure, ma’am.” You say, kissing the back of her hand. “You smell like strawberries today. New hand soap?” you ask, breathing in deeply, once more.

She chuckles, and lightly swats at you. “No, Jillian, it’s my new hand cream. I’m old and these hands need to be taken care of. Speaking of taking care, are you taking care of my Patricia?”

“Always, Mrs T. She’s a good egg. Very bright, makes better use working for us than the MTA.”

“I always knew my babygirl would do something great. Now I see there’s nothing greater than being a Ghostbuster. Well, aside from academia, but her heart was never really in it, so I’ll let that one slide. Anyway, you cookies be good now, and I’ll see y’all later for dinner. 7 o’clock.”

“Yes, ma’am, we’ll be there.” You say, giving her a small wink, before heading towards Ecto, where Patty has already seated herself in the back, and fastened her belt.

“Oh, and Jillian?”

“Yes?” you enquire, wheeling around.

“It’s Betty. None of this ‘Mrs’ malarkey. I thank you.”

You nod your head and wander over to the driver’s side. Opening the door, you climb up and stand in the frame, calling over the roof. “Sure thing, Betty. We’ll see you later!” And with that, you wave her off into the house, before you tap the roof of Ecto in a spritely rhythm and get in the car.

“Holtzmann, you’re the devil, yano.” Patty says, as your bum touches the nylon seat.

“And why’s that?”

“Flirting with my Mom!”

“I was not flirting with your Mother! I just like her. A lot. She’s a good woman, lively for her age and she’s matured well; like a fine wine. Delectable. She can probably still do some things; I’ve seen the way her hips move at family gatherings! Fwhoof!” you say, before widening your eyes and raising your eyebrows.

“Holtzmann! You can’t say things like that about Patty’s Mom!” Abby shrieks in horror.

“Well, don’t let Erin find out, or it’ll be your head on the chopping block.”

“Oh, sure, cos I’m gonna run off with your Mother.”

“Ha! She’s dabbled, sure, and you might give her a run for her money, but she’s happily married.”

“I know, I know. I’m not gonna take her away from Mr T. Hahahaha! Mr T! OhmyGod, I just got my joke. Ahahaha! Get some nuts!”

“Holtzmann!” Patty says, leaning forward and slapping your arm.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry.”

“Just drive.” Abby says, taking her glasses off and pinching the bridge of her nose, before sighing exasperatedly.

“A’riiiight.” You say, inhaling and exhaling deeply and loudly, before putting the car into gear and driving back towards your office.

As you drive, in silence no less, Patty starts humming absentmindedly to herself. It’s some random tune, but still you take it as a sign of boredom, and turn on the stereo, selecting your _80s Greatest Hits_ CD again.

“Video killed the radio star, video killed the radio star. In my mind, and in my car, we can’t rewind, we’ve gone too far!” you sing along to The Buggles. You wiggle your torso in time to the music, singing along each time the chorus comes on, and near the end, you begin to whistle the tune, until it fades.

“You’re in a good mood, Holtzy. How you holdin’ up, with your lover gone?”

“Fucking shit, actually Patty. I was dying all alone; got tonsillitis and I had nobody to take care of me – I tried to ring you both twice and you guys didn’t answer, so I gave up. Died all alone.”

“But that’s a bit of an exaggeration, isn’t it?”

“Well, obviously, cos I ain’t a ghost, but shush. I was really ill and you guys were so busy.”

“Holtzmann, you’re such a drama queen.”

“Well, actually, if we want to look at it from the zodiac perspective, I am the least likely to be a drama queen: the top four are: Leo, Capricorn, Aquarius and Pisces! Leos are the fucking _Queen_ of Drama Queens, not mentioning any names, cough, cough, Erin. Virgos, on the other hand, are supposed to be neat freaks and critical over _everything_. I disagree; I’m _not_ a neat freak – that’s Erin, I’m confident and a perfectionist. I’m extremely supportive of my friends and Virgos have the best memories out of all the zodiacs; hence why I can remember, quite vividly, what I did as a kid. In terms of criticism, we, and me in particular, overanalyse everything and are very critical towards ourselves – if it ain’t perfect, I start again; hence the self-frustration and short temper, especially when I cock up.”

“I didn’t realise zodiacs rule personality so much.” Patty says, looking out the window.

“Well, rule isn’t the right word, more like _shapes_ your personality; obviously you live and love by your own rules and standards, but the zodiacs _explain_ why we are the way we are. Of course, not everyone believes in the zodiacs, or the star signs, but those of us that do, generally believe in the supernatural and the balance of nature; yano, Yin and Yang, and how the zodiacs creates a person, so to speak. Like I said, we live by our own perspective and understanding of the world, but if you’ve got someone who is exceptionally stubborn, chances are they’re an Aries – rams are stubborn as heck and Aries, not only are they the first of the zodiacs, they’re also the leaders and they are fiery as fuck; they’re a fire sign. Their personalities are sizzling and they’re creative in unique ways. They’re also insanely impulsive. But, that’s just one of the many zodiacs and we don’t need to get into that. Just take it from me – I have self-confidence, but I’m also self-critical. I’m also someone who overanalyses everything, but I’m super supportive and not judgemental. You know how I am; you work with me, for Christ’s sake. Do you _really_ think I’m a drama queen? If anything, I’m a _child_ , but that’s due, in part, to my Asperger’s, but also because I’ve not quite grown up, haha. I don’t wanna!”

“That’s quite a comprehensive explanation, Holtzy.” Patty says, turning her attention to you, leaning in between the two chairs, and turning the CD up. You slap the back of her hand, but let her carry on. “Ey, rude. That hurt.”

“ _Nobody_ fiddles with the volume, and besides, ugh, you’ve put it on an odd number. No, no, one more up.”

She listens and puts it up to ‘14’. “There we go, sorry, I like this song.”

“I could’ve turned it up.” Abby says.

“Yeah I know, but I wanted to be in this bubble, girls.”

“Aw, we love you Patty.” You say, flicking your indicator to the left and swinging into the garage, which you opened as you approached.

“We need to be back in this car in less than a minute. T minus 60 seconds. AND go, go, go!” You shout, telling them that you all need to work quickly. Leaving the car doors open, you grab the keys and run up the stairs, taking them two at a time, to get into your jumpsuit, grab your Proton Pack and Ghost Trap. As you run up the stairs, you trip halfway up and nearly smash your face on the step above you.

“ _Whump_!” you exclaim, as Abby catches you, before your nose hits the metal trimming.

Abby grabs you under your arm and lifts you to your feet. “Steady on! Not having any broken bones, _just_ for a ghost. It’s a Class IV, not a Class VII, babe.”

“Well, I gathered that, as it’s a Class IV, I just needed people to move. Ow, my toe hurts, goddamn!”

“You stubbed it, what do you expect?” Abby says, still holding on to you.

You pout at her and hobble up the stairs, at a much slower pace.

Once decked out, you head back downstairs and sit in the driver’s seat of Ecto, drumming your fingers on the steering wheel, again, this time waiting for Abby to be ready.

“What _is_ she doing?” you ask, as the car rocks and Patty sits, heavily, in the back seat, before getting out and putting her Proton Pack, which she forgot she was still wearing, in the boot.

“Um, do you want the honest answer, or made up version?”

“Really?”

“Okay, she’s gone to the toilet. She said that she ‘might be a while’ so that we should, I dunno, read a book, or something.”

“I’ll take her documents in. Help me, would ya?”

“Alright, cool.” She says, grabbing some of the documents off the backseat and the floor. She clambers out the door and hands you some of them. Together, you walk up, carrying Abby’s stuff and carefully dump them on her desk.

As you sit down at your desk, Abby emerges from the bathroom, grinning sheepishly.

“You might want to avoid that for a while. Although the window is open.”

“Beeaaautiful.” You say, sarcastically. “Come on, mu’fuckas. We got a ghost to ensnare.”

Once downstairs, Abby puts her Pack in the boot, with the other two and jumps in the back with Patty, leaving you alone up front.

“Cheers, guys.” You say, pointing with your thumb at the empty seat next to you.

“Yo, tell us why you were banned from the Public Library as a teen.”

“I got banned cos I wouldn’t keep quiet. I also broke the bookcases, walls, tables and windows on the third floor. Completely accidentally, of course. They had to refurb the whole section.”

“Dare we ask how and why?”

“Physics project gone wrong; that’s all you really need to know.” You say, smirking at them in the driver’s mirror.

The pair rolls their eyes, a reaction which you’re so used to and hear them sigh; another reaction you’re used to. 


	26. Chapter 24

You pull up outside the Public Library and dash, awkwardly, up the steps, past the lion statues. You each flash your ID badges at the clerk and start to ask her where the ghost is.

“Um, no, no, no. I’m not having you in here again.” The lady says.

“Who you on about?” Patty asks, bemused.

“Her.” She says pointing at you.

“You destroyed part of the third floor and we gave you a life ban.”

“A _life ban?!_ You’ve got to be kidding me? Dude, I was 19. I’m thirty-bloody-four now. I’m a responsible adult. And _you’ve_ got a ghost problem on your hands. Do you want these two going in on their own, without a Ghost Containment Unit, and with two-thirds worth of Proton wrangling power, whilst I stand outside and kick my heels because of something which happened 13 years ago?”

“A life ban’s a life ban. Not much I can do.”

“Well, how about we ring Mayor Bradley and tell him that _you_ are stopping me from doing _my job_ , which, FYI, I am _fully licensed_ to do, because your boss is an egotistical …” you bite your tongue.

“Mayor Bradley has licensed you?”

“Yes, we’re the Ghostbusters ma’am.” Patty adds.

You unclip your ID badge and slam it on her desk, pushing it towards her. “Read that.”

She reads it and hands it back to you. “Yes, it says you’re fully licensed, since 2016.”

“Yeah, so any damages caused, we cannot be sued for. I mean, we could always start charging _you_ for the restrictions placed upon me and my work.”

“No, no, I don’t want that. One minute.” She turns to the phone and punches in a number on the keypad. “Yes, hello, Ron? Jillian is back again. She’s got an ID badge, her name’s on it. Yes … yup … life ban … uh, huh … no, she says she’s here for work … Alright, see you soon.” She hangs up. “He’s coming down. You can explain it to the manager.”

Ron, a burly man, with a rotund stomach, broad shoulders and thinning hair appears through a side door, behind the desk. The clerk points at you and folds her arms. He stares at you, before looking you up and down and then at the other two girls. “What part of ‘life ban’ don’t you understand?” he asks, rather aggressively.

“Yeah, I get that, but what I did was _thirteen_ years ago, and it was an accident. And _now,_ I’m an ex-professor and a Ghostbuster.”

“She has a PhD in Physics, yano!” Patty adds.

“Particle Physics, no less.” Abby chimes in.

“You’re a Doctor?”

“Yes, Dr Jillian Holtzmann, but I don’t go by that title. I go by Holtzmann. And I am a Ghostbuster, as are these two lovelies. We saved New York back in 2016. Remember the giant vortex at The Mercado? Yeah, that was created by a loony and we stopped that. It’s now 2019 and we’re _still_ stopping ghosts. And _you_ have a ghost in this library. I mean, it’s only a Class IV, so technically we could just leave it, I mean it’s not doing you a lot of harm, the fact that you’re a) so calm, b) you don’t recognise us, and c) you’re challenging our authority here, tells me that you don’t even know you have a spectre on your premises. So, yano, ban me all you want, but if you do kick me out, know this: I _will_ be leaving that ghost on your property and any and all future apparitions, spirits, spectres, ghouls, ghosts and spooks. So, yano, choose.”

“I call bullshit.” Ron replies.

“Okay, well, we can have a pinpoint location with our PKE Meter, so if you wanna tag along, feel free, but I’m coming in. _Don’t_ try to stop me. Otherwise I’ll impeach you for not allowing me to do my duty, as legalised by Mayor Bradley on behalf of the State of New York.”

“Fine, I’m coming with you. I don’t trust you.”

“Fine, don’t trust me, but when we find the ghost, _you…”_ you say, prodding him in the chest with your index finger “…lift the ban for me. Okay?” you ask, rhetorically.

“Deal, let’s go.”

“Not so fast.” You say, pulling at his shirt to slow him down.

Abby gets out her PKE Meter and switches it on. It lights up red and slowly spins, the prongs tight. The newly updated screen shows a blueprint map of the ground floor. A small red LED light blinks in the top right corner. “This way.” Abby says, pointing with the end of the PKE Meter. Encumbered by the weight of the Proton Packs, you waddle-run in the direction in which Abby pointed, with Ron trying to keep up. You burst through the heavy oak doors and Abby checks the PKE Meter again.

“What … is … that … thing?” Ron asks, out of breath, clutching his side.

“This? Oh, it’s a PKE Meter. It detects ghosts, via their Psycho-Kinetic Energy. It detects various shifts, including, but not limited to: temperature shifts, AP-xH shifts, placement shifts, as well as their ionisation charge, whether positive or negative, which helps us to locate the apparition.”

“And the backpacks?”

“The back—these are _not_ backpacks. These are Proton Packs made up of a Neutrona Wand, which shoots out a Proton Stream, and a nuclear particle accelerator, which aids the breakdown of, usually, neutrons which make up the ghost, or ghosts, plural. The Proton Stream can be set to a positive, or a negative charge, depending on the ionisation of the ghost. It catches the ghost, with a sort of electricity rope, binds them, and breaks their particles down, weakening them, sufficiently for them to go into the Ghost Trap.” You say, tapping the Ghost Trap attached to the bottom of your Pack, lying against your buttocks.

“So that thermos holds the ghost?”

“Indeed. Usually, it can only hold one ghost, so we try to break any more ghosts down by other means. We don’t _have_ to trap a ghost, but if we do, we can take it back to the lab and study it, and its ectoplasm, and dissect it and learn about its conjuration and the power it emits, to match the Classification System we have devised; from Class I to Class VII.”

“By other means? What does that mean?”

“Um, with the Ghost Chipper, Proton Glove, and multiple Proton Grenades. To be used with _extreme_ caution and to _only_ be used outside, in a spacious area, where civilians are not present and where damage, specifically, buildings, is minimal.”

“Grenades?”

“Yup, but don’t worry, they’re only harmful to ghosts. They’re not like explosives. They emit Proton bursts. They can’t actually kill a human; just knocks them off their feet. I think. I’ve obviously never tested them on a living creature, and I don’t intend to, either. Don’t fancy jail time, thanks.”

Abby points in front of you. “Looks like our ghost friend is thataway.” You all dash off, leaving Ron contemplating whether to follow or not. He sighs and catches up to you, as you pull short before a stack of books.

“These … should … be … on …”

“A shelf?” You ask.

“Yes. Not in a tower.”

“Oh, well, that’ll be our ghosty.” You say, whimsically.

“So where is it?” he asks, quite clearly getting frustrated.

“Shhh.” A voice whispers in the dim light.

“Alright, no need to get so bossy. Which one of you is telling me to shush?”

You turn to face the other three, and they each look confused and shake their head.

“Fine then, but I’m not being quiet. We’ve a ghost t—ooh, hello.” You say, turning to see an apparition a little ways off, holding an open book up near a bookcase. You cock your head from one side to the other, like an inquisitive puppy. You narrow your eyes and purse your lips, before licking them slowly, the left-side of your mouth twitching into a devilish smile. “That, ladies and Ron, is the Grey Lady. And she is beautiful. She’s a Class IV Entity. Actually, more specifically, she’s a Free-Roaming, Vaporous, Full Torso, Semi-Anchored Apparition and she is quite the reader.” You add as she closes the book and tosses it over her shoulder, where it flies towards the pile and gracefully lands on the top. “Ooh, wow, that was cool.” You say, with wide eyes and mouth agape. “There’s some unscrupulous history surrounding The Grey Lady. Formerly known as Dr Eleanor Twitty, she was the Head Librarian here. I remember reading about The Grey Lady in history, during Middle School, and I happen to know a lot about her, and more importantly, I _remember_ about her and her past. The story goes like this: Eleanor was seduced by a man named Edmund Hoover, also conveniently known as _The Collector_ , and he was a deceitful rare book collector. Eleanor was unaware that ‘The Collector’ was just using her in order to get to the rare books in her care, including something called the Gozerian Codex, which…” you pause, stopping the story mid-flow “…I actually need to delve deeper into the history and its purpose, and basically _what_ it is.” You look between the others and continue with the story of Eleanor. “Eleanor and Edmund were engaged to be married and when she found out about his sordid intentions, she broke off the engagement – as I’m sure anyone with some kind of sense would do…” you add, slightly sarcastically “…and that’s when he murdered her, in cold blood, in the secret section of the library. This, obviously, has never been found. Nobody knows why this section was created, or by whom. It was discovered that Eleanor was the fifth woman to go missing under mysterious circumstances in 1924.”

“Shhh” Eleanor says, putting her index finger to her lips, glaring at you in the process. You wind your neck in, and straighten your back, shaking your head slightly.

“Alright, your highness.” You reply, sarcastically. She glares at you again and vanishes into thin air. “Oh, did I happen to mention that as a Class IV, we _do_ need to capture her?” you say, distractedly, staring into the space she once was floating.

“Um, no, you might’ve have mentioned that beforehand.”

“S-sorry.” You say, physically shaking your head, so you’re snapped back to reality. “Ron, stay here, this could get dangerous. Abby, Patty, let’s go capture us a Class IV.”

“ALRIGHT!” they yell together.

The three of you whoop in unison, before you set off at pace along the length of the bookcases, checking the PKE Meter every 200 yards or so.

“Left!” Abby exclaims, as you pass people sitting on benches, or at tables, reading quietly. Several of them shush you, but you pay no attention to them, and carry on at a hurried pace. You deviate to the left and find yourselves short of hitting a wall. “Dang it!” Abby exclaims. “Well, obviously we can’t go that way. Let’s split up and –”

“Look for clues?” you suggest.

“Holtz, we’re not the Mystery Gang. This isn’t an episode of Scooby Doo!”

“Um, I _literally_ meant look for clues. I wasn’t being funny, I just meant find out which way she went and/or if there’s an alternate route to getting to where she is.”

“Oh. Right. Yeah, good idea. Sorry, man.”

“It’s alright.” You split off in different directions looking for hidden doors, or any clues as to where Eleanor may be. “Eerrr, guys?” you call, having delved deeper into the bookcases. “You might wanna come here and check this out.” You say with a raised voice.

“Where are you?”

“About 20ft from where we all split off, turn to your right and follow the _Horror Genre_ books.”

Within a few seconds, Abby and Patty show up and you hold up your fist, like a soldier, and they stop dead behind you.

“Look … at … that.” You say, spreading out each word, and pointing ahead of you.

“Holy shit. What is it?” Patty asks coming to stand by your side.

“ _Black_ _Slime,_ or more precisely, _Black Ectoplasm_. Remember we were trying to conjure this to see if it would create a vortex between the Ghostworld and our world, but we couldn’t find enough Slime to examine it back at the lab to see if our theory was correct?”

“Yes, what’s your point?”

“My point, Abby, is that this is a large quantity of Black Slime, sufficient enough for us to take a sample back to lab. Ab, what’s the readout on the PKE saying?”

“Holy sh-… Wow, that’s off the charts.”

“Uh, huh, figures. Remember I said it was invisible to the naked eye, unless in large globules? Yeah, well, we have a large pool of it here, and obviously we can all see this dark ooze; like the Green Slime, which Erin managed to get attacked by at almost every ghostly interaction, back in 2016, but it’s made up of Dark Matter. Shit, I think I need to make us Ecto Goggles; maybe like Night Vision Goggles, with an ability to see Dark Matter, because the PKE Meter is all very well and good, but yano, if we’re in dark places, we’ll want to actually _see_ what we’re coming up against so we don’t walk into it, or an ‘invisible’ portal. This needs to be taken back to the lab, as a matter of urgency. We’ll have to come back to deal with Dr Twitty, but right now, we need to get out of here, with some of this Black Slime to find out what it _really_ does, and _if_ and _how_ it links to the Ghostworld.”

“So, do we have anything to put it in?”

“Ah, shit, well, _no_ , cos I wasn’t actually expecting to encounter some of this stuff. Patty, go back to Ron, ask him if he has a phial, or a bottle with a sealable lid; some sort of airtight container; anything that he can get his hands on, which will seal tightly and bring it back to me, please.”

“Alright, you got it.” And Patty disappears back the way you came.

You swing your gun over your shoulder and wait for the _click_ to signify it is locked into place, before getting down onto your knees to examine the Black Slime. You lower yourself until your nose is inches from the goo and then you sniff deeply. You gingerly dip your little finger into it and bring it up to your nose, as you rock back onto your heels, in preparation to get to your feet. You wind in your neck, and screw up your face.

“What is it?”

“Revolting. Smell my finger.”

“Holtzmann, the last time someone asked me to smell their finger was after he had fingered someone, so no, I will _not_ smell your finger, thanks.”

You snort at her response, the sound vibrating inside your throat, before you snicker out loud, sounding a little bit like Muttley. “No, seriously, I need your opinion on this. I can’t tell what it’s made of.”

“Isn’t your snoot good enough?”

“Usually, but it’s not like anything I’ve smelled before.”

Abby sighs, loudly. “Alright, fine. Come here then.” She sniffs your little finger and pulls and equally disgusted face. “What the hell is that? That’s not an electrical discharge, or an isotopic decay, or, or …”

“Yeah, I know. It’s, it’s weird.”

“Hey, ladies, are you makin’ out with each other, or what?” Patty asks, suddenly appearing from behind a bookshelf, and making you both jump.

“No, no, we’re smelling the Black Slime.” You say, offering her your finger.

“Holtzy, I ain’t smellin’ nothin’ that’s on your finger.”

“That’s what I said!” Abby exclaims.

“Guys, I _have_ washed my hands today. And I _do_ wash them, after … yano …” you move your hands about, trying to aid what you’re trying to say, before you give up and drop them to your sides. “Ehhh, doesn’t matter. What matters is this stuff stinks like rotten and burnt flesh, with a hint of mouldy garbage.” You sniff it once more, before touching the tip of your tongue to the Black Slime, sticking to your finger. You instantly regret it, and quickly flick your tongue in and out your mouth, like a snake, trying to get rid of the bitter taste, whilst making grossed-out noises. You grimace, and tense your neck, before poking your tongue out and heaving at the taste. After a few minutes of this, you decide to lick the sleeve of your jumpsuit, to try and rub the taste away; instead, you succeed in getting the taste of dust and dirt. “Uh-uh, ngho, buhnt do mnat.” You say, with your tongue hanging outside your mouth, drying in the air. You shake your head quickly, snap your tongue back in your mouth, and run your teeth over the end of it, before sucking air over your tongue and through your teeth, smacking your lips together and eventually swallowing. Pulling a final disgusted face, you repeat what you had said. “Uh-uh, no, don’t do that.” You relax your face again and wipe your hands on your trousers, leaving a smeared line of black goo down the outside of your thigh. “Don’t lick the goo. It’s horrendous. I don’t recommend even touching it.”

Patty, who had just stared at your throughout this ordeal, hands you an empty Pepsi bottle. “This is all he had.”

“Wonderful.” You say, cynically. “Well, at least it seals.” Bending down again, and placing your knees on the hardwood floor, you scoop up some of the Black Slime and watch it ooze down the inside of the bottle. You repeat this action, until it is a quarter full, before you put the cap on and twist it as tight as you can manage, wiping the outside of the bottle on your trousers and shoving it into your leg pocket. Standing up straight, you watch a few bubbles form on the surface, hear them _gloop_ and turn to look at Abby and Patty. “Right, so I’ve managed to gather a substantial amount of Black Ectoplasm to run some tests on and now we have a choice. Go straight back to the lab, analyse the negativity out of this shit, or keep it on us and go and catch us Eleanor Twitty; your choice.”

“Well I vote that we get the ghost.”

“Yeah, seconded.”

“Alright, ghost capture, phase 2 commence.”

“Er, hold up, hold up, when was phase 1?”

“Before we ran into this shit, or rather, before we ran into the wall. Er, Abby, check the PKE readout, please, and tell us where we’re going.”

“Uh, right, sorry, forgot I had it.” She lifts it up to look at the screen and the red LED light on the screen blinks rapidly. The pink antennae spread out and spin at a dizzying speed, dazzling the three of you as it whizzes in a wide circle. “Um, guys, this readout is having a hissy fit. Come look at this.” Abby says, holding the screen up. You rest your chin on her shoulder and stare, wide eyed, at the screen.

“Woah, holy smokes. That is a _huge_ surge in activity, these energy readings are off the charts – definitely more than anything we’ve seen before. There’s a shit tonne of energy coming from, and around, the ectoplasm, meaning that whatever’s caused it is bursting with neutrons. The Psychokinetic Energy is highly active in this area and whatever we are dealing with, whether that is Twitty, or another ghost, seems to be pretty powerful. My wager is that this isn’t actually a Class IV, perhaps, more likely, due to these readings, a Class VII and if it _is_ a seven, then we’re royally fucked. The temperature has also dropped significantly.” You lean over Abby’s shoulder and press a few buttons on the front panel, selecting the Electromagnetic Field setting. “Okay, so the EMF here is undoubtedly higher than anything we’ve seen recently, which proves my theory that we are dealing with something much stronger than a four. We are potentially looking at a six, possibly a seven, as I said, aaaaand, well, heh-hah, we’re screwed. The three of us cannot take on a seven. We definitely _need_ Erin and she’s pissed off to Brooklyn and isn’t back for another three days.”

“Don’t EMFs create hallucinations due to their intense magnetic fields?” Patty asks. “I remember learning about magnetic fields in Physics.”

“Weeeell, yes, and no; depends, really. I actually studied this prior to becoming a Ghostbuster during my undergraduate course for Physics, so I have some prior knowledge regarding Electromagnetic Fields. Doo-dee-doo, let’s see. Uhhmm… hmm… Now, where to begin? Alright, so, choices, choices. We’ve got research from Canadian cognitive neuroscientist, or we’ve got research from a Yale neuroscientist, or even a British psychologist. Okay, well, let’s start with Michael Persinger, the Canadian. So, if I remember correctly, he said that _‘hallucinations can be triggered by stimulating specific areas of the brain, with fixed wavelength patterns of high-level electromagnetic fields.’_ Right? And Chris French, a British psychologist, stated that _‘fluctuations in the earth’s background magnetic field can interact with the temporal lobe, to produce a sense of presence and visual hallucinations.’_ So, both parties here agree that the EMFs in the earth can tinker with the brainwaves and create hallucinations. What French also says is that _‘such transcerebral magnetic stimulation may lie behind many reports of ghosts and hauntings’_. But, despite their claims, this is simply a theory and many ghost hunters actually don’t have any proof. Heck, even _I_ don’t have any proof that the earth’s EMF is linked to hallucinations. Yale neuroscientist, Steven Novella concludes that Persinger’s theory behind electromagnetic stimulation _‘has to be focused and at a certain frequency in order to have this effect._ ’ So, basically, there’s not enough substantial proof that EMFs do, in fact, cause illusions; I mean, we can create them in a lab because we’re determined to do so, and we can alter the frequencies of the electromagnetic fields, to a state which interacts with the brainwaves and causes us to see things, but here in the real world, what proof do we have for the existence of said hallucinations? I mean, I don’t have any clue as to what frequency we need to have in order for us to see ghosts, because I have never sat down and theorised it, in order to create mirages. We’ve all seen ghosts, just think back to 2016, there were a _lot_ of scared civilians running around the streets, seeing many different classifications of spectral visages; do you _really_ think any of them created transcerebral magnetic stimulation? No, I don’t think so. Even that news reporter suggested that terrorists drugged the water supplies, which in turn created those hallucinations; again, no extensive proof that even a ‘poisoned’ water supply can create phantasms in a delusional state. So, to conclude, I don’t think EMFs produce ghosts. What I do know, is that this baby displays temperature readings, has a tracking device, and detects the psychokinetic energy, which, holy fuck, is reading into the hundreds. Shit guys, gear up!” You look at the readout display and back to the black ectoplasm, just as Eleanor Twitty floats through the wall, an eerie purple aura surrounding her.

“She don’t look too scary.” Patty says, pointing the Neutrona Wand at her.

In that moment, Eleanor transmogrifies, her face suddenly elongating, with her brain appearing exposed as her hair flies upwards and out at different angles. She has jagged teeth protruding from an oversized mouth and looks like the stuff of nightmares. She roars at you and lunges forwards, hands grabbing at the air in front of you. The three of your lurch backwards as you press the red trigger button with your thumb.

A _whooshing_ sound emits from the wands as the Proton Streams shoot out at high speed, they momentarily wrap around Eleanor, before she vanishes from in front of you.

“ARGH!” you growl, overly loud. “Which way did the bitch go?!” You ask through gritted teeth, as you hook the gun back in place. The others do the same.

Abby looks at the PKE Meter, the LED light is blinking rapidly and moving along the map. She dashes between the bookcase to your right, just before the wall and then swivels to the left. Running straight on and leaving you to have a delayed reaction. You realise that Abby has moved and you and Patty follow her, her boots banging on the wooden floor. Various members of the public look up at you as the three of you pound down the corridor.

“THIS WAY!” Abby shouts and you follow her up a staircase. You stumble up the stairs, and this time Patty catches you. You nod in thanks and carry on running. At the top of the corridor, Abby turns left, and runs along the carpeted floor, before her boots slap on the wooden flooring. As she runs, she looks down at the PKE Meter and nearly runs smack bang into a pile of books. She looks up at the last second and manages to run around them, barely missing them as she does so. As you approach, you slow your pace as the top three books start to levitate. Patty skids to a halt, just short of slamming into you at pace, her boots squeaking on the hardwood flooring.

“Woah, Nellie!” You say, as Patty bumps into you.

“Sorry, I did try to stop.”

“Yeah, I know you did. Would you look at that though?” you say, pointing a finger at the books.

“Jesus, she loves stacking them, don’t she?” Patty asks.

Albeit a rhetorical question, you answer it anyway. “Yeah, I think she’s might turn them into weapons, because the ones downstairs started to float.” Sure enough, as soon as you say the word ‘float’ the top four books rise up, and open up as if they were bats and begin circling around the tower. You cock your head and watch them circle and gather up speed before flying straight towards you!

“FUCK! GET OUTTA THE WAY!” you yell, equipping your Proton Pack. You duck under one that flies straight at your head and bring your Proton gun up and around, aiming the barrel at the book bats. You hit the red button and the Proton Stream shoots out the end, destroying the book in milliseconds. You smile triumphantly, but it’s wiped away when the other three books dart towards you. This time, Abby and Patty are on hand to zap the books. You think it’s over, but then the whole stack of books starts to shake and with an upward motion, like that of Mentos and Coke, the books shoot upwards, open themselves up and fly at you. You shoot at two and then get smacked in the side of the head by the spine of a third, and a hardback at that. You force knocks you to your feet and sends stars dancing in front of your eyes. Abby and Patty continue attacking the books, and eventually, the dizziness stops enough for you to join in on the attack. All of a sudden, the violent outburst stops and all the remaining books fall to the floor with various _whumps_ and _bangs._

Getting up from the floor, you brush yourself off, but keep a tight hold of the handle of your gun. You’re not taking any chances. You widen your stance, and hunch your shoulders forward, a pissed off look on your face. “ _Come out, come out, wherever you are_!” you sing to the vicinity. You hear a _whooshing_ noise and your feet are knocked out from under you. Your legs fly up in front of you and you’re lifted slightly into the air before you land, hard, on your Proton Pack, knocking the wind from you; you cry out and lie there motionless. The movement was similar to that of Erin slipping on the Slime in The Mercado, but in a much more aggressive manner.

You sit up cautiously and, tucking one leg underneath you, and keeping the other with the sole of your foot on the floor, you transfer your weight to your dominant foot and push yourself up, ignoring the hands offering to help. You clip your gun back into the holder, and bend over forwards, coughing and wheezing.

“Fuck … me … that … hurt.” You say, trying to get your breath back.

“Maybe you shouldn’t have called her a ‘bitch’?” Patty offers.

“Touché.” You say, breathing in deeply. “HUH, HAH!” You yell.

“But she didn’t get ‘Holtzmanned’, you just got your ass whupped and handed to you on a plate.” Abby says, taking the piss.

You narrow your eyes and laugh at her mockingly, before folding your arms, and looking not only embarrassed, but also offended.

“Oh, come on, lighten up, Holtz. You should’ve seen it from our point of view. It was pretty damn funny, the way your legs went _whoop_ out from underneath you. It was like you had slipped on ice.”

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry that I called you a ‘bitch’ Eleanor. You’re not, okay? I am. I respect you for being the Head Librarian and kicking that guy to the curb, I’d have done the same, yano. So, uh, how’s about you show yourself, and we’ll, um, _talk_ , and then offer you some place real comfortable so we can get to know one another?” You say, trying to listen out for any sign of Eleanor.

You hear the sound of _whooshing_ again, and Eleanor appears, fully formed in between you and Abby.

“Hi.” You breathe, waving at her.

“Ooh, cream and sugar, she’s a full-torso transmogrification.” Abby says, clapping her hands together and laughing.

“Shhh!” Eleanor says, turning to Abby and putting her finger to her lips.

“ _With corporeal aggression.”_ You whisper. “Hi, I think you’re beautiful.” You say, in your normal voice, trying to butter Eleanor up. Slowly, you unhook your Proton gun and lift it up, carefully swinging it over your shoulder and aiming the barrel at her. With your other hand, you unfasten your Ghost Trap and hold it in your left hand. It weighs a tonne and it doesn’t take long, before you stoop low, towards the floor, and gently place the trap on the floor, tipping the end of your gun downwards, in the process. Eleanor, who is still floating in front of you, makes a book glide upwards and into her hands. She hovers there, reading it intently. You cock your head to one side and quickly kick the trap under her. Startled by the noise, Eleanor shushes you again and moves down the row of bookcases, so you have to pick up the Ghost Trap again. You pass it to Abby, who places it under her and steps back to join you and Patty, on the other side of the grounded pile of books.

You flick the switches on your Upper Arm Remote Trigger, and hear it _beep_ , reading _PEDAL READY TO ACTIVATE._ You aim your particle thrower at Eleanor and nod subtlety at Patty and Abby to do the same. With all three energy weapons pointed at the Librarian Ghost and the Ghost Trap primed, you yell “NOW!” and all three of you, simultaneously, press the red buttons. Each fires a stream of highly focused and radically polarised Protons at the ghost’s negatively charged energy. The beams wrap themselves around her and she roars in anger – a seemingly common trait with the higher classed spectres. The beams electrostatically trap the ghost and you quickly activate the pedal on your trap; it now reads _PEDAL ACTIVATED._ It illuminates green, and you struggle to control Twitty, who is now lashing and driving forwards. She pulls upwards and the force physically tilts the ends of the firearms, so you’re now aiming at the ceiling. She thrashes around again, and your beams are coming dangerously close to becoming entangled with one another. You split off from the group, wandering towards your left, so you’re now in front of them. The three of you create a triangle, with you as the top and Abby and Patty the bottom edge. The streams jerk wildly as she pulls and twists, suddenly gathering speed and the power is too much for you. “OH YEAH, I FORGOT TO TELL YOU, I ADDED TWO ADDITIONAL FEATURES TO THE PACKS. A DARK MATTER GENERATOR, AS WELL AS THE SHOCK BLASTER, WE FIELD-TESTED.” You yell over the sound of the beams and Eleanor’s deafening roars.

“SHOULDN’T YOU HAVE TOLD US THIS SOONER?” Abby enquires.

“PROBABLY, BUT I FORGOT. I WAS TOO BUSY CREATING IT, THAT WHEN IT WAS DONE, IT SLIPPED MY MIND. PLUS, I DON’T THINK YOU ACTUALLY REGISTERED THAT I SAID _PRIMARY TEST: DARK MATTER GENERATOR, SIDE-WEAPON SHOCK BLASTER_ IN THE ALLEY.

“ACTUALLY, NO, I DIDN’T. WELL, HOW DOES IT WORK?”

“YOU WANT THE LONG OR THE … WOAH … OKAY, THAT’S NOT GOOD. PATTY, KEEP YOUR BEAM AWAY FROM MINE… OR THE SHORT EXPLANATION?”

“HAVE WE GOT TIME FOR EITHER?” Patty asks, concentrating her beam away from yours.

“WELL, THE DARK MATTER GENERATOR COLLECTS INVISIBLE DARK MATTER PARTICLES AND PROJECTS THEM _THROUGH_ THE NEUTRONA WAND. THIS CAN BE ACHIEVED THROUGH HIGH-DAMAGE SHOTGUN-LIKE BLASTS, AS CONDUCTED AT THE FIELD-TEST, OR AS A CONDENSED ORDER-REVERSING BEAM TO SLOW, OR EVEN PARALYSE SPECTRAL ENTITIES FOR EASIER CAPTURE. DARK MATTER, MAKES UP APPROXIMATELY 23% OF THE OBSERVABLE UNIVERSE’S MATTER-ENERGY CONTENT AND IS INVISIBLE TO EMITTED OR SCATTERED ELECTROMAGNETIC ENERGY. DARK MATTER … OI, STAY STILL … DARK MATTER ABSORBS ENERGY FROM THE SPECTRAL ENTITIES IT’S EXPOSED TO BY WAY OF THE WEAK NUCLEAR FORCE, STRIPPING AWAY THEIR PK ENERGY BY REACTING WITH IT. I’M NOT SURE AS TO THE FULL EFFECTS OF THE STASIS STREAM, BUT POTENTIALLY WE CAN SLOW DOWN, OR FREEZE THE PK ENTITY ALTOGETHER!”

“SO HOW DOES THAT RELATE TO THE SHOCK BLASTER?”

“GOOD QUESTION, PATTY. THE SHOCK BLASTER EXPELS A CONICAL PATTERN OF STRIPPED DARK MATTER PARTICLES THAT DIFFUSE QUICKLY IN THE ATMOSPHERE. VERY POWERFUL AT CLOSE RANGE, AS I DISCOVERED DURING THE FIELD TEST, IF YOU REMEMBER? BUT LESS ACCURATE AND POTENT THE FURTHER AWAY FROM THE TARGET, AS I ALSO DISCOVERED. DON’T YOU REMEMBER THE BACK-ALLEY TEST FOR MARK III? THAT’S WHY I CONDUCT THESE TESTS, TO NOT ONLY SEE IF MY WEAPONS WORK, BUT TO ALSO TEST THEIR ACCURACY AND DAMAGE AND ALSO RATE OF FIRE. THE SHOCK BLASTER IS ESSENTIALLY A SHOTGUN, DEALING EXTREME DAMAGE AT CLOSE RANGE, ESPECIALLY WITH QUICK-MOVING ENTITIES, LIKE TWITTY IS TRYING TO BE.”

“SO WHY ARE WE STILL WAFFLING ON ABOUT IT, AS OPPOSED TO USING IT?!” Abby asks, frustrated.

“I HAD TO WARN YOU, BECAUSE THE KICKBACK AND THE DAMAGE WILL BE EXTREME, AND WILL LIKELY BLAST YOU OFF YOUR FEET. ALSO, WE CAN’T ALL HIT HER WITH THE SHOCK BLASTER, AS IT WILL TRIPLE THE DAMAGE AND BREAK STUFF AND I DON’T WANT TO BE BANNED FOR LIFE AGAIN, THEY’VE ONLY JUST RESCINDED THAT.”

“ALRIGHT, THAT’S FAIR ENOUGH. AFTER YOU, HOLTZ!” Abby yells, nodding at you.

You switch settings to the Shock Blaster one and tell the others to let go of their buttons. They look at each other, confusion etched on their faces, before shrugging in unison and leaving them alone. You aim the butt of the gun at Twitty and as she launches forwards, you press the trigger button. The same light-blue beam juts out the end and blasts into Eleanor’s chest; you are pushed back a yard. She shoots backwards and screams, apparently ‘in pain’. You aim again and this time Patty blasts her. Again, she is knocked backwards, and so is Patty.

“We’re makin’ her angry!” Patty concludes.

“Yup, and we’re weakening her. Abby? Ready? Aim! FIRE NOW!”

Sure enough, Abby also presses the button and shoots a high-powered conical blue stream at Eleanor’s chest. She screams, high pitched and begins to wither. You wonder if another will completely explode her, or whether you do actually need to capture her. Aiming again, you shoot a final blast at her and with one final bloodcurdling scream she explodes, shooting out a mix Green Slime, covering you all from head-to-toe.

“Urgh! I got some in my mouth, yuck!” Patty exclaims.

“Spit it out!” you say, wiping your hands on your trousers, before taking off your rounded spectacles and trying to find a Slime-free patch. It’s at this moment that Ron appears, attracted to the sounds of the stasis streams and the screams.

“What happened here?!” He asks, seeing you covered in ectoplasm.

“We got Slimed.” You say, still blind from the goo which is covering your face.

“Here, let me.” He says, taking your glasses. He pulls a clean handkerchief out of his pocket and wipes the lenses on them, before offering it to you to wipe your face. As he does so, Abby takes it from him and wipes her own glasses; she is able to see marginally better than you can and she laughs at you, as thick green goo forms into a large droplet and slides off your face, making a _gloop_ sound as it falls to the floor.

You sigh and hold your hand out for the handkerchief. “It’s not funny; I can’t see jackshit, Ab!” When it doesn’t arrive in your hand, you run most of the goop off your face with your hands, until you can see again. You flick a long, thin snot-like string off your fingers and it flings itself onto a nearby book. “Oops” you say, looking sheepish. “Right, so are we charging you for the spectre attack and explosion of ectoplasm, or are you charging us for accidental damage?” you ask Ron, as he hands you back your glasses.

“Um, how about neither and let’s call it a day. I owe you a huge thanks, and, Jillian?”

“Yes-um?”

“You’re no longer banned for life. We’ll call it even. You destroyed the library third floor, we fixed it, a ghost trashed it, you fixed it – I think that settles any scores, right?”

“Kudos, Ron, I’ll give you that one. Right, well we’re off. Ta-rah!” Picking up the unused Ghost Trap, you turn to Abby, who takes it off you, spins you around (making the straps swing about from left to right), and grabs one of the moving straps hanging down from the base of your Pack. As she goes to grab the second one, it swings into the back of your leg and she ends up rubbing your butt with her fingertips.

“Steady on, Ab. Whatchu groping me for?”

“Well if you didn’t wiggle, then I’d be able to grab the strap. And if I was gonna grope your ass, I’d do it like this.” She grabs your ass and gives it a playful squeeze, as she does so, you straighten up fully.

“Ey, oh!” you quip. “Hold your ponies, Patty might get jealous.”

“Uh, I’m cool, dude.”

“Okay, well, I’m going to leave you lesbians to have your love triangle. Thank you once again.” Ron says, slightly weirded out by the ass touching.

“Uh, only one of us is gay, dude.” Patty says, pointing at you. Abby sees her and also points at you.

You shrug. “Well, there’s at least one gay friend in each friendship group. You probably know one, and if you don’t, then it’s _you_.” You chuckle to indicate that you’re not being serious.

“Happily married to my wife, thank you. Now, off you pop.” And with that, Ron turns on his heel and flounces out the door.

“ _Okay, for a straight dude, that was one hell of a camp exit walk.”_ Patty whispers.

“ _Yeah, I know right? Makes me look straight! I joke of course. No, but seriously, that’s like a Drag Queen strut, and those are the bomb! RuPaul’s the shit!”_

 _“Yeah, I have to agree with you there, Holtz. RuPaul’s Drag Race is beautiful. And those Queens – ah!”_ Abby says, putting her arm around you. She finishes attaching the Ghost Trap and the three of you link arms and exit the building.

Once outside, you check the time on your wristwatch. “Shit, guys. We need to get to Betty’s in an hour. But we gotta get this back to the lab, contain it… _”_

 _“Securely,_ Holtz.” Abby says.

“Yes, securely and we gotta get this gunk off us.”

“Well, quit your yapping and get in the car.” Abby says, sounding bossy.

“Yes, ma’am.” You say, opening the car door for her.


	27. Chapter 25

The moment you’ve been waiting for over the last 7 days arrives. You hear the low rumble of an engine only you recognise, and springing to your feet, you rush over to the window, to see a slightly dusty, but still gorgeously striking, yellow-with-black-racing-stripe 68 Camaro Z28 pull into the private car park. You’re overcome with emotion and excitement, and you rush, clad only in a wife beater and grey boxers to the door of your apartment. You leave the door on the latch and rush down the stairs, too impatient for the elevator. You jump down the last three steps before each floor and arrive, in a bundle of joy in the doorway of the apartment block, and hold the door wide open, waiting to greet the love of your life.  
Within seconds, you hear the familiar footfalls on the concrete and await your lover’s arrival. She sees you and immediately drops her backpack and suitcase to run up to you. Scooping you up into a big hug, you wrap your legs around her and attack her with fervent kisses. She kisses you back and holds you under your bum. You’re kissing her in the doorway with so much passion, that your lips start to tingle. As you do so, you feel the couple from opposite you approaching, but you ignore them, until the man speaks.  
“Dr Holtzmann. I appreciate that you’re in love with your girlfriend, but would you both be so kind as to unblock the doorway for my girlfriend and I?”  
“Derek! So good to see you.” Erin says, still clutching you like a child attached to its Mother’s hip. “I’ll carry my baby out the way now, sorry for blocking the entrance.”   
“Not a problem.” He says, smiling and flashing his brilliantly white teeth.  
His girlfriend on the other hand (Derek’s third one in two years) looks down her nose at you as you’re in little more than underwear. She wrinkles her nose at the two of you and rudely sweeps past you. “Come along Der-Der, I want to see that new movie you were telling me about.”  
“Yes, well, can’t I have a chat with my neighbour?”  
“Hmmph.” The only response, before dragging him off by his hand.  
You watch the pair leave, before Erin begins to carry you towards her suitcase, neglected on the floor. “Baby, no offence, but you’re quite heavy. You’re not a baby and I’m a weakling.”  
“Glad you added that bit!” You scoff, pretending to be hurt. “I’ve barely eaten since you’ve gone. Well, for the first five days, as I was still poorly.”  
“How’s my baby doing now?”  
“Your baby is much better.”   
“Good.” She kisses your cheek and gathers her things. You skip off to hold open the door and squeeze her ass as she walks by.  
“Oof, cheeky.”  
“Yeah, well my girl’s back and I’ve been a bit sex deprived.”  
“Well, I hate to break it to you, but I’m fucking knackered from my trip. I just want to chill tonight, is that alright?”   
“Of course, babe. I know just the thing!”  
“Mmm, yea, what’s that?” she asks, as the elevator dings signalling its arrival.  
You get in, with Erin’s bags and lean against the rail jutting out from the mirror. “Well, first of all I’m going to make you a peppermint tea and I’m going to hang up your coat, and then I’m gonna take off your sneakers and massage your sore feet, and then your sore shoulders, cos you’re carrying a lot of tension in your shoulders. Then, we’re going to sit down at the brand new four-seater dining table, which I placed in the gap, which pretty much had nothing in it, and I’m going to serve you pot roast, via candle light with red wine for you and a beer for me, cos I’m classy as fuck. And we’ll wine and dine and you’ll tell me all about your week away and I’ll listen intently and ask appropriate questions and then I’ll tell you all about my week, and afterwards, we will have warm Belgium chocolate cake with ice cream and cream and then I will wash up, but you’ll offer because I cooked, and then I’ll playfully whip you with the teatowel, before giving in and letting you clean, whilst I dry and then, because it’s date night, and Valentine’s Day, we’ll snuggle on the sofa and watch ‘Bridesmaids’, or ‘The Heat’ or ‘Hot Fuzz’, which I got from my British cousin, twice removed, as a gift, or even, yano, ‘Wonder Woman’ and then you’ll fall asleep on my shoulder and wake up near the end, and then I’ll serve ‘After 8’ mints and strawberries and cream if you have enough room. Once we’ve fattened ourselves up, I’ll run you a steaming hot bubble bath and leave you to relax all by yourself, with Jane Eyre and more red wine and I’ll play ‘Crash Bandicoot’ on the N64 and then, once you’ve had your bath, you’ll come out, all cosy, wrapped in your Sith towel-gown, and you’ll climb onto my lap, with your hair still wet and thank me for a perfect date night, and yano, kiss me passionately.”  
The elevator dings again, and its doors slide open. You wander down the corridor and into your apartment. Once inside, you take it off the latch and push it firmly do it shuts itself and the lock catches.  
“Holy shit, Holtz. You’ve put major thought into this, haven’t you?”  
“Of course, my darling. When you text me yesterday, telling me you were coming home today, I knew I had to do something extra special, cos I’ve missed you like crazy and we’ve not had a date night in so long, so I wanted to combine it as a ‘Welcome Back, Erin’ and ‘Hey, it’s our monthly overboard date night’. The ones where we go all out for each other? Or have you forgotten?”  
“No, of course I remember. Why would I forget? You’re so perfect and cute, and I love you, babygirl.”  
“I love you to the moon and back, Er-bear.”  
“I know you do and I love you to Coruscant and back, Holtzy.” She leans in and kisses your lip, with strong pressure, before pushing her tongue in your mouth. After a couple of minutes of making out, your lips tingling again, she speaks. “That all sounds so perfect. It’s been a stressful week and I’m exhausted with my blood family. I just want to relax with my girlfriend and our fur babies and forget about it all, to be honest.”  
“And then, shall we have an early night, or do you want some Holtzmann magic?”  
“I think an early night is in order, but morning sex is definitely on the cards.”  
“Ooh, aye. That’s a change. Normally you’re into evening sex.”  
“Again, tired out from Brooklyn; I just want to relax and fall asleep in your arms.”  
“Hey, that’s no problem. Right, sit. Take those sneakers off. I’ll put these in the bedroom and when I come back, I’m massaging those feet of yours.”  
“Okay, you weirdo.”  
On your return, Erin is laying on the sofa, with her feet propped up on the coffee table. “I love the new dining table, babe, where’d you get it?”  
“I made it.”  
“You did what now?”  
“Yeah, I made the table.”  
“How?”  
“Some good timber from the timber yard, a brand new hand saw, some 9 inch screws and determination. Blood, sweat and tears went into this; literally.”  
“I hope you washed the blood off?”  
“Potentially.”   
“Lush. Well, it’s gorgeous and I think my little engineer has done a fine job. Who knew you were into carpentry!”  
“There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me.” You say, grabbing her right foot and gently pressing the arch.  
You get up before you start on her shoulders and put the pot roast in the oven. You spent hours preparing and cooking it and now you’re just reheating it.

* * *

Once you’ve finished massaging Erin, you get up at the sound of the oven timer beeping.  
“So, what have you made again?”  
“Pot roast, your favourite.”  
“Aw, thanks.”  
“Sit, sit, eat. Oh, shoot.” You put the casserole dish in the centre of the new table, on a large placemat, and scurry around the table to pull the chair out. Erin sits and you push it in for her.  
“Thank you, hun. This looks amazing!”  
The two of you begin to eat hungrily, not taking your eyes off your dinner, scoffing in silence, until Erin begins to tell you about her time away in Brooklyn.  
“So grandma is fine, but my Mom got on my nerves. She was all like, ‘when you gonna get married and have kids. I want grandbabies. You better make sure Phil gets you pregnant.’ I kept trying to tell her that I was with you, but she’s in denial. A bit like your Mom, actually, just a little less aggressive.”  
“Ooh, snaaap!” you say, clicking your fingers in an ‘S’ shape.  
She nods as she drinks her wine.  
“How’s the pot roast, darling?”  
“Delicious. How long did it take to make?”  
“Well, the instructions said to cook it in the oven on a low heat for 4 hours, but I got a bit flustered reading them, so more like 5. Is it okay, though?”  
“Very good and tender too.” She says, putting another forkful delicately in her mouth.  
“Took me 8 hours in total; reading, re-reading, preparing, cutting, re-reading, preheating, drinking, stressing, slicing my finger – the same one I glassed, plastering it with a blue Band Aid plaster, crying and cooking.”  
“Aww, baaabe! You didn’t have to go through all this trouble, ya know? We could’ve just gotten takeout!” Erin says, setting her fork down, with roast potato attached.  
“I’ve put on 2 stone, babe, or, more precisely, 12.701 kilos. We need to cut back on takeaways!”  
“Thank you, I appreciate it. So, what film are we gonna watch?”  
“Haven’t decided, that’s on you.”

* * *

You clear away the dishes and prepare the dessert. “That was amazing, no? Okay, so you have room for warm Belgium chocolate cake with cream, ice cream or both? Or you can have my cream?”  
“Amazing indeed. Just the cake please, I don’t like ice cream with warm cake.”  
“What about cream? The cake can be cold too, yano.”  
“Still just the cake. I’ll have your cream tomorrow, if that’s okay?”  
“Hmmph. A’riiiight.”   
Erin gets up to help you with the dishes.  
“NO!” You yell, startling her.  
“What, this gun isn’t ready?”  
“Huh? Oh, right, right, no, no. You can’t help. You need to sit and close your eyes.”  
“Oh, no, what have you planned?” Erin says, taking a seat at the table again and closing her eyes. She sighs and covers them.   
You contemplate getting naked for her and sitting on her lap – after all, you still only have a wife beater and boxers on; no bra or sports bra. You grin devilishly and push the thought out of your mind. You disappear upstairs to the chinchillas, and quickly feed them, before returning with a small box.   
You pull Erin’s chair to the side, so that it is angled, and kiss her on the forehead. “No peaking.” You say, as you get down on one knee. “Babe, open your eyes.”   
Erin opens them and takes a moment to register what is happening. Instantly, her hands fly to her mouth as she realises what is about to happen.  
“Three years ago, I met the most loving and the kindest person, since Abby, and I was instantly attracted to her and I fell in love with her pretty damn hard and fast. Those three years have been one helluva ride! We’ve fought ghosts together, battled my Mom together, had our first fight and she nearly died, twice, for us, and, um, shit. I knew I should’ve written this down… Oh, God, what was I gonna say? Oh, God, I had this really nice speech prepared and I’ve only gone and forgotten it…” you grunt in frustration and furrow your brow. “Ah, screw it. Dr. Erin Jane Gilbert, PhD, former Associate Professor at Columbia University, current Ghostbuster, best friend, except for Abby, girlfriend, soulmate and the absolute love of my life, would you do me the honour of making me the happiest glorious weirdo in the whole of New York City, right now, and be my wife?”  
Erin, who’s listened intently to your whole speech, with a large lump in her throat, breaks down in front of you. You don’t know whether they’re happy tears, but you assume they are when the biggest grin you’ve ever seen from her spreads across her lips. “I would love to be your wife; more than anything in the world. Dr Jillian Holtzmann, PhD, former Professor of Particle Physics, specialising in Nuclear Engineering at Kenneth P. Higgins Institute, now a Ghostbuster, also my best friend, other than Abby, and the love of my life, I would love to be your wife. I was wondering when you were gonna ask me.” She says, throwing you a wink.   
You slide the ring on her left hand and get up from the floor. You straddle her and the pair of you make out with each other again, your tongue flicking over hers, and hers reciprocating.  
At last, catching your breath, you ask her the second most important question. “But, what are we gonna be called? Erin Holtzmann? Jillian Gilbert … Sorry, no, I can’t do that. I’m Holtz! Erin Holtzbert. OHMYGOD! THAT’S IT! MRS AND MRS HOLTZBERT! HOLY FUCK!” you shout, jumping up off her lap and putting your hands to your mouth, spinning giddily. You beam and place your hands on your cheeks, before jumping up and down on the spot.  
She gets up and pulls you in for a hug, stopping your upward thrust. “Sounds perfect to me, babe. Erin Holtzbert. Got a sweet ring to it.”  
“So, um, I haven’t actually got the dessert out of the fridge, so what say we skip dessert and I eat you out instead, fiancée.”  
“Sounds even better, damn.”  
You get up and admire the diamond ring, sparkling in the candlelight on her finger. It fits her extremely well and you’re super proud of your purchase; and how you managed to keep quiet about it.  
“So, do the girls know?”  
“Nope. Well, I mentioned some time ago that I wanted to propose to you, but I didn’t say when and I didn’t tell them when I bought the ring, so they don’t know.”  
“Should we tell them?”  
“Um, not yet. I want the first taste of you as my fiancée first.”  
“Okay, but if I fall asleep…”  
“Baaaabe. You can’t! Oh, my God. Don’t you dare fall asleep on me.” You whine.  
“I told you I was tired.”  
“Yeah, but cunnilingus, though? You just need to lie there and let me do all the work.”  
Erin scoffs. “That’s not how it works, and you know that, Holtzmann. You can do it tonight, okay, but if I get tired, you’ll have to stop, whether I’ve cum or not.”  
“Urgh, fine.”  
“You still get to eat me out, so what’re you complaining for?”  
“Okay, true.”  
You blow out the candles and disappear off into the bedroom.   
Once inside, you shut the door and turn to Erin, throwing your top off. Your nipples immediately go stiff in the cooler air and because you’re quickly horny.   
“Damn girl.” Erin says, walking over to where you’re stood. She takes a nipple in her mouth and gently sucks at it, whilst pinching the other one. A low gasp escapes your lips.  
“I thoug—”  
“Uh-uh.” She says, putting a finger to your lips, but still sucking your nipple. You take it as you’re not allowed to speak and you let her take control of you. She runs her hands down your sides and makes your skin prickle with excitement. Without warning, she digs her fingers into your back and claws at it; slowly dragging her nails down your flesh. You groan with pleasure and she sucks harder. She does it again, harder and you moan, groan and whimper at the contact. You make a mental note of your physiological response and find yourself weak at the knees; she hasn’t clawed you before and it’s exhilarating.   
As your knees buckle, she stops sucking and catches you. You exhale and lick your lips, breathing hard. She guides you towards the bed and pushes you roughly on to it. She begins to kiss you passionately; nipping at your neck and making you wince in pain. She pulls her top off over her head, ruffling up her hair and takes off her bra. Planting kisses down your neck, she grabs your hair and pulls, making you moan again. As she bites at the flesh again, she leaves small hickeys; however, she bites too hard and you react in pain. She apologises and you use this as the perfect opportunity to become the top.  
Now planting kisses down her neck, you kiss along her clavicles, leaving hickeys of your own along the bones. You kiss across to her sternum and down the centre of her torso, pausing to blow a raspberry on her petite, tanned stomach. She giggles and tells you to stop; you obey. Carrying on, you kiss Erin’s hips and along the bridge between them. You stop to pull off Erin’s skirt and knickers before you begin kissing down the outside of her thighs, before seductively licking the inside, breathing hot air on her vagina, toying with her.  
As you exhale a second time, you dip your head and take Erin’s clit in your mouth, gently sucking at the already-sensitive flesh. Erin pants with pleasure and you begin to lick at it, teasing her with your tongue, getting her all hot under the collar, as it were. You continue to alternate between licking and sucking, making Erin squirm with pleasure. You switch up your speed and this makes Erin’s breath catch in her chest. Erin holds it, and squeaks with pleasure. She begins shaking, and exhales; the breath turns into a loud moan, to which you smirk at, against the hardened, sweet, juicy, wet flesh. You keep on performing cunnilingus on Erin, until she squeaks with pleasure again. Her legs shake uncontrollably underneath you, before she sneezes, harder than ever before, squirting white cum into your mouth and face; mercifully missing your eyes. You giggle and wipe your mouth, before cleaning Erin up.  
You catch your breath, and move your slightly stiffening jaw about. “How was that, Eri?”  
“That…was…fan-fucking-tastic. Holy fucking shit balls, Holtz. Now, it’s my turn.”  
Erin flips you around below her to reverse the roles, you now being the bottom again. She kisses you ardently and forces her tongue into your mouth to taste herself, which makes her wet again. She then gets up and tells you to stay put. She returns, carrying the strap-on. Your eyes widen, and you begin to panic slightly but you don’t let on.  
“Thought I’d give this a whirl, if that’s okay with you?” She puts on the strap-on as you watch her, hungrily. “Well, this is different, but I certainly do like it.” She says, as you gulp, hard. She gives you a smirk as she returns to you, dildo in hand. She then rubs the tip of it on your clit, teasing you so, before attaching it into the rubber cock-ring, designed to keep it in place. She gently pushes the tip of it into your pussy, before pulling out again slowly.  
Your whole body tenses, having never had a dick before, and you instinctively want to cross your legs. Your breathing quickens, and you’re almost having a panic attack.  
“Babe, I don’t have to, if you don’t want me to?”  
“No, it’s fi-No, I want you to. Just, just be gentle with me, won’t ya? This is my first cock, yano.”  
“Baby, I’m not gonna hurt you. You know that. I’m gonna take it nice and slow, just like you did to me, the very first time we had sex. Just relax, okay. I don’t want you to panic.”  
“Okay, but in all honesty, I’m scared.”  
“I know you are, but it’s me. I’m on the end of it, and if you want me to stop, I promise I’ll stop, okay?”  
“Okay.” You say, nodding quickly.  
She straddles you, positioning the head of the dildo over your vaginal opening and gently inserts it, holding it with her hand, so you can feel her working it inside you. She pushes it about a quarter of the way in and you start blowing air through your nose; a little discomforted and also aroused at the same time. She leaves it there, without moving, so you get a feel for it and you feel your muscles relaxing around it. You’re surprisingly very wet from it and you nod at her to continue.  
She pulls backwards and you feel it moving; the shaft of the dildo rubbing the sides of your pussy. She pushes again, going as deep as it will let her. You let out a strange moan; having never had something larger than three fingers (and something much harder) inside of you. You nod at her to continue, not breaking eye contact with her, and within seconds, she has an effect tempo going. With each thrust into your G-Spot, you feel yourself getting closer. Erin’s hips rolls into yours at a perfect rhythm and you can’t help but notice how good it feels for her to use the strap for a change. Your moans develop into ones of pleasure and Erin increases the speed of each drive. Your breathing quickens and you begin panting and sweating with excitement. Erin goes faster and faster and she breaks a sweat on her forehead. Your face is burning hot and you feel the sweat sliding down the side of your face. She pushes harder and deeper into you and with this, you moan exceptionally loudly and cum on the dildo, visibly white against the black rubber. Erin pulls out and falls backwards; taking the strap off she licks your cum off the surface, whilst still making eye contact with you. This makes you insanely horny, as if the fucking wasn’t enough.  
“Good as always, babe.” She says seductively, throwing you a wink. She kisses your forehead, and then throws the strap-on, with dildo still attached, onto the floor, before walking into the bathroom, as you lay there, motionless, shocked and still turned on from what just happened.  
When she returns, she comes over to you and sees that you’re still secreting white cum, your vagina contracting with the release, and so she inclines her head and slowly licks it up. You shudder under the feel of her tongue, too sensitive for her to do anything more.  
“Babe, I, ahh, too sensitive. Ooh, mama!!” you exclaim, wriggling under her as the tip of her tongue reaches your clit.  
She smirks into it and gives it a kiss before bringing her head up to kiss your mouth. “How was that for you?” she asks, breathily.  
“Um, weird, nice, painful, hot, and a massive turn on.”  
“Painful?”  
“Yeah, I’ve not had a dick inside me, so I didn’t know what to expect.  
“True. Well, that’s your hetero virginity gone and if your hymen wasn’t already broken, it is now!”  
“Baby, my hymen broke a long time ago. Think back to Abby and I getting it on. Yeah, we might have also experimented with a few toys back when we were dating. And I say ‘experimented’ loosely here. Her cousin’s sister had a vibrator and we tried it on each other; obviously we cleaned it first, and yeah, it broke then.”  
“A vibrator, huh? Good to know.”  
“Heh, yeah.” You say, blushing.  
Erin stifles a yawn and your eyes grow heavy. All that work has tired you both and it’s time to turn in for the night. You get comfortable in the bed, and she cuddles up to you, hooking her leg over you and draping her arm over your side. There is no need for covers, as you’re both still boiling. As you lie there, letting sleep wash over you, she leisurely plays with your nipple, before quickly falling asleep.


	28. Chapter 26

You wake up some time in the night, shivering in the cold February air. In the distance you hear _Cruel Summer_ playing. You focus your attention on it before grumbling and getting out of bed.

You wander into the living room and locate your phone ringing on the coffee table.

“Mom? What do you want … No, why should I … That’s ridic – Yeah, sure, blame that one on … Hold up, what? Are you drunk? ERIN, GET IN HERE!” You yell, deafening your Mother and startling your fiancé.

A sleepy Erin appears, her naked body illuminated in the half-light. She rubs her eyes as you hand her the phone.

“Mom wants to speak to you.” 

“What?”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Hello? This is she … Yes, Erin, her _fiancé_ _e._ You met me at the hospital … If it’s _so_ important, then perhaps you need to ring back when it’s daylight. It’s like 3am, why are you calling now … Oh, so you thought that _because_ you were drunk, you’d ring at this time? Mmhmm. Okay, bye.” She hangs up.

“Well, what did she want? What was so urgent that she had to ring at this ungodly hour? And, honey, why’d you shut her down like that?”

“She was being rude, as per, so I, in return, was also rude. Apparently your Dad wants to see you and didn’t know your number, so called your Mom.”

“Wait, wait, wait, my _Dad?!_ The dick, who cheated on my Mom with the fucking paediatrician, 26 fucking years ago and wanted an instant divorce, and then tried to pedal his way back into my life when I was 21; that fucking guy?”

“Uh, yeah?” she offers. “Wait, I didn’t know that’s what happened.”

“Yeah, surprise.” You say, flatly.

Your phone rings again and you grizzle.

Erin sees the new caller ID: BITCH FROM HELL **.** She stifles a laugh. “You gonna answer this time?”

You roll your eyes. “I suppose I’ll have to. Yeah, whaddaya want, Mom? … Whaddaya mean Dad wants to speak to me? He hasn’t spoken to me since the divorce; which I _know_ you put off until I was 19, even though he cheated 8 years previous. You only stayed together so we’d look like the perfect family, except you had a secret gay daughter that you didn’t want to talk about and that you’d shun at home and bash with a fucking Bible, every goddamn day … What?! … I, er, wh-wha-urgh, fine, gimme his goddamn number. No, text it to me, yes, now … Yes … No … Fuck you too, Mom. Bye.” You hang up. “ _Bitch.”_ You mutter under your breath.

“What was that all about?”

You await the text and copy and paste it into the call screen, before hitting the call button. A gruff voice answers.

“Is this Greg? Karen Holtzmann gave me your number … You know, my _Mom_ , the one you cheated on when I was 8? … Yes, this is Jillian Holtzmann. I go by Holtzmann now … Huh? … What? … When?” You scoff. “You wanna be the Father you never were? And why the _fuck_ should I … oh, sorry, Dad. No, I, er … No, I respect that, sorry … Uh-huh. Why do you wanna know about my relationship status? I’m with a girl, well, woman. She’s, she-she’s a professor, Dad. She’s highly intelligent a-a-and, and, unique and charismatic and charming and highly romantic. Well we’ve officially been dating for 3 years, 2 months and 8 days. Oh, yeah, no, sorry … No, but Dad, if you want to make it up to me, then you can start by meeting her, and um, we live together and we’re um, we’re, we’re, er, erm, uh …” you pause, wanting desperately to tell him, but unsure of his reaction. Although he’s been more supportive than you’re Mother, you’re still unsure of what he will say. You sigh and take your chance. “We’re engaged, Dad … Yes! She’s my soulmate and the love of my life.” You suddenly choke on your own spit. “FUCK?! WAIT?! Sorry, sorry, sorry … No, I know you’ve never liked me cussing, you’ve always told me off for it; Mom’s always such a bitch to me, she makes me irate … Ha! Really? That’s funny … But, uhhh, just run that by me again? _Jesu Christi …_ Your, y-y-y…” you stammer, trying to comprehend what it is he has just said. “You’re _blessing._ Holy shi _-take_ mushrooms! Okay, well thank you, sir. No, I look forward to it. Okay, goodbye.” You hang up and roar, in an attempt to scream (something which you aren’t particularly good at, unless you’re frightened, or having sex.)

“Well, shall I assume that went well?”

“DID YOU FUCKING HEAR WHAT HE FUCKING SAID, BABY?!” You’re suddenly yelling and she screws up her face. You also wake up the chinchillas and you hear them fussing in their cage. “FUCKING HELL! FUCK ME”! OH, FUCK. FUCK, FUCKIDY, FUCK, FUCK, FUCK!!!”

“Babe, calm down. Did you say his blessing? Yes, that is amazing, but he’s practically a stranger, he doesn’t know me. He barely even knows you.”

“Yeah, so? He’s proud of me and of the Ghostbusters and he loves the fact that I’m gay and always hated Mom being a bitch towards me for it. And he wants to try and be there for me and he’s happy for us and has given us his blessing. It’s a step up from Mom, I’ll give him that. _Then_ he can start grovelling.”

“But why now? Don’t you think it’s odd that _now_ he wants something to do with you? I find it a bit fishy, to be completely honest with you.”

“Oh, he doesn’t know about the counsellor at Camp Apache, just about Abby and I. He also doesn’t know about the Asperger’s, so keep that on the DL, please?”

“Will do.”

Your phone _pings_ and you have a text from your Mom. You look at it, and opening the message, you begin reading it aloud for Erin:

“So you’re probably wondering why now. Greg has been trying to reach out to you for the last 5 years, and I always shut him down, never giving him the time of day. He eventually stopped contacting me, and started again, about five days ago. I withheld because I hate him. I saw you happy and I despised you. My own daughter, my flesh and blood, and my ex-husband, had also found joy in his new career and new place of home. I had become bitter about it all. I saw you as a parasite, which needed to be cleansed; I tried exorcising you when you were a child – that’s what also those therapy sessions were. One day, I was offered the chance to go on a retreat – I laughed, mocked and scorned and took up drinking again. I was spiralling out of control and I had no one to stop me. I hit rock bottom and began despising everyone who was happy.  
  
Some ladies in the Ladies Fellowship at church noticed and they prayed for me, in the hopes that I would get better. Again, I was offered the opportunity to go on a spiritualist retreat – finding God in the shitstorm, basically. During one of my more intoxicated nights, I read the pamphlet I was given and signed up for the Holy Water and Divine Provenance Spiritualist Gateway Retreat – a mouthful, I know. I went on it and learnt so much; about how to let go, how to change my outlook and how to reconcile with loved ones. I stopped drinking and found God again. I returned 3 days before your accident. I tried to make amends, genuinely, but you, naturally, despised me.  
  
I’m still uncomfortable with you being gay, as it is against God’s wish, but if that is what makes you happy, then I have no authority to challenge that. I cannot change you, but I can change my attitude. Take it from me, when I was sloshed from my third bottle of red wine, I saw that I had to change. I love you so much, Jillian, and I am proud of you. I came to that realisation on the retreat.

  
I mocked you, because I feared what I did not know and because you turned out better than me – no Mother, no Father, no parent should do that. I was not right to mock you or your Father. I love you unconditionally and your Father and I, well, we’ve been sleeping together; for the last year or so. He is still single, having never really loved anyone besides me, and I think we need to forget about the past. He told me why he ran off with the paediatrician – it’s because he was fed up of our arguments and me bullying you and wanted something new and exciting.  
  
We cannot justify 30 years of neglect, especially me, but our time here on earth is short and I want to start by saying that I am sorry. And I will be a better Mother. I’ve been going to AA meetings because even though I stopped drinking on the retreat, I started again, whenever I found myself thinking how cruel and wicked I was towards you. I will attend my meeting on Friday and then I will start being better from then on. I love you Jillian, and I love Erin too and I want you to be happy.

  
Also, Greg just text me about your engagement, and I suppose congratulations are in order. I’m proud of you, duck. And of how far you have come – you’ve grown and shone and turned out to be a better woman than I ever was, and I hope one day, you’ll become a better Mother than I ever was, because, yes, I do want grandbabies; even if you adopt them. I will love them, like I should have loved you.  
  
Love you lots, Mom xx”

You pause and pocket the phone. “Well, fuck.” You say.

“Well, that’s certainly an improvement.” Erin says, not quite believing what has just been read to her. “So, are you gonna go see your Dad?”

“Yeah, I mean, why not?”

“Because I don’t think that’s a good idea. Think about it, Holtz. He’s been gone for what, 26 years and suddenly he shows up outta the blue, and apparently him and your Mom are back fucking…”

“Ew, Erin, no, I don’t want to think of them like that. They did the nasty one time to have me, that’s all.”

“God, you’re such a baby. Okay, fine. They did it _once_. But I still think it’s random as fuck that he wants back in your life.”

“A’riiiight, fine, I won’t go and see him.”

“It’s up to you, but I _really_ think you should think about it.”

You sigh. “Fiiine.”

“Good.” She kisses you on the cheek and heads back to bed.

“I’m too awake now, I’mma watch the 4am news.”

“More Trump and his goddamn wall, I should imagine.”

“Yeah, prob’ly! Meh, I’m not gonna watch. Sleep time!”

* * *

The sound of birds tweeting gently wakes you and Erin up, you’re entangled in one another and you’ve managed to fall asleep with your fingers in her pussy, although she obviously hadn’t noticed, until you’re fully awake.

“Oof, babe, are your fingers inside me?”

“Um, yeah, I think they are. Sorry, babe.”

“When did you finger me?”

“D’you know, I don’t actually know, Erin. I honestly don’t have a fucking clue.” You waggle them inside her, trying to loosen up the constricted muscles and she immediately becomes wet. “Oof, Hellooooo. Someone’s horny.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve got your fingers in my pussy, you’re naked, you’re fucking stunning, you’ve managed to keep that hot as fuck six pack, oh and we’re engaged!”

“Yeah, we are!” you say, chuckling and fingering her at the same time.

She tips her head back and exhales with pleasure and you increase the tempo, getting her soaking wet. You thrust hard with your fingers, before taking them out and stimulating her clit. She is super-fast this morning and within five minutes, she’s shaking, sneezing and cumming.

“Babe, one thing I’ve never asked, why do you always sneeze before you cum?”

“Haven’t a clue. It’s as involuntary as our leg spasms. It started with Phil and it’s been like it ever since. I don’t understand it, but the first time, it was a legitimate sneeze, but I was on the edge of cumming – I sneezed so hard that I orgasmed and came, and literally, since then, my body has decided that the cue for me to cum is to sneeze. It’s pretty weird.”

“Your high pitched sneezes are the best. When you do great big sneezes, like I do, I know for sure you’re gonna have a big orgasm – cum or no cum – or you’re gonna cum white. And when you cum big and hard, that turns me on. Also, you being vocal turns me on, like _really_ turns me on. That’s why 98.5% of the time, I’m drenched when you give me a go.”

“Hmm, well I like it when my Holtzy is turned on. Are you turned on now?”

“Is that even a question?”

Now it’s her turn to play with your clit. She teases you, as only she knows how to and she sends shivers down your spine. You shake away the feeling and dig your nails into her back, clawing at the flesh and dragging them down her spine, again, and again. She moans at you moaning and you growl playfully at her, before whimpering at her contact. She plays; toys; teases you; until your back arches and you cum plenty on the bedsheets.

Erin, with multiple red lines down her back, leaves you once more, and takes her phone to the bathroom.

“You’re going for a shit, aren’t you? Wow, so romantic. Pump and dump. You’re such an ass, sometimes.”

“JUST LIKE YOU THEN.” She calls from behind the closed bathroom door.

“Love you, baby.”

“I know you do, otherwise you wouldn’t have proposed to me, dummy.”

“Yeah, I think we need to tell Abby and Patty.”

“Yea, but first we need to get you a ring; get like an engagement band or something, cos I know you’re not a ring wearer, and you wouldn’t suit diamonds.”

“Cheeky! But, yeah, wedding band sounds good; or engagement band, whatever they do.”

“We’ll pick one out this afternoon. This morning, we need to go food shopping.”

“There’s loads in the freezer mind.”

“Yes, but no margarine, milk or fresh vegetables.”

“Alright, fair enough. I’m coming in to shower.”

“NO, DON’T! I’M COOKING UP A RIGHT STORM IN HERE, BABE. IT’S COMING OUT OF ME LIKE LAVA! I DON’T KNOW WHAT I’VE EATEN, BUT IT AIN’T GOOD.”

“You alright?”

“YES, JUST GO PLAY WITH THE KIDS.”

“Alright, if you’re sure.”

“YES, YES, NOW GO. PLEASE.”

You throw on your wife beater, which you had on yesterday and a pair of _Taz_ boxers. You leave Erin and wander to feed your kids. Climbing the ladder, you stand in the mezzanine and wander over to the cage. “Good morning kids, how are we all today? Ooh, hang on, one, two, three, four and five… which one of you is missing?” You take them out of their cage, one by one and put them in the playpen you made from chicken wire, with hay for the floor. You pick up each _Chinchilla lanigera,_ and, by noting its colour over the years, you work out which is which. The first one you pick up is a fat one with stubby legs. Its coat is light-grey, with a crisp white belly. “Good morning, Dave.” You say, scritching him behind his ears, and kissing the top of his head. You place him in the playpen.

Next, you pick up what’s known as a Heterozygous, or simply ‘Hetero’ Ebony chinchilla. This one has black and dark-grey fur, with a light-grey belly. You greet the fluffy female. “Good morning, Darcy, how are you, sweetpea?” you ask, also giving her scritches and kissing her head. You place her in the playpen, where she fusses up to her boyfriend. Next is a Homozygous, or simply ‘Homo’ Ebony chinchilla – and Darcy’s brother, George. He is plump with a shiny black coat and black eyes. “George, hope you’re looking after your sister?” you ask, rhetorically. You do the same with him and place him down with the other two. You pick up a Pink White female with ruby eyes. This one you know to be Margaret, as she’s the only light-coloured Chin. You greet her and place her with the others. This now leaves you with either Steve or Betsy, and the other missing.

You pick up the dark Violet Chin, a skinnier one than the previous. It has a white belly, purple hue, black eyes and pink-grey ears. This one nibbles at your finger, and you instantly recognise it to be Steve the Chewer. He chews everything he can get his teeth into. “Hey, Steve. That’s my finger. No, ow. No, Steve, uh-uh. Be a good boy.” You say, placing him with the other four, where he immediately gorges himself on the hay. Steve’s sister, and light Violet Chin, Betsy, is the one which is missing. You return to the cage and lift up the wooden cave. Sure enough, Betsy, despite being the runt of the litter and growing up stronger than the others, looks small and weak; possibly ill. You gently scoop her up and put her in the carry box before clambering down the ladder. At the bottom, you’re greeted by Erin, who notices the distraught look on your face and your eyes shiny with tears.

“Betsy’s poorly. We’ve got to take her to the vets.”

“Has she been eating?”

“Well, I don’t know. I have my breakfast; feed them, making sure they have enough hay and water and snacks for the day, and head to the lab. Then when I come home I feed them again, as I’m supposed to do and I don’t notice whether she’s eating or not, cos I’m not here. Oh, what if it’s my fault, somehow?”

“Baby, no, I’m sure she’ll be fine, but, yes, let’s take her to the vets the a.m. okay?”

“Please, I’m devastated that my baby is poorly – she was the runt of her and Steve’s litter, yano. She was so, so weak.”

“Well, you’ve done a marvellous job at bringing her up.”

“Thank you, but not now, she’s sick.”

“Let me get dressed and I’ll drive us.”

“Okay, thank you.”

“You gonna go like that?”

“No, I’ll chuck some joggers and a hoodie on.”

“No sports bra?”

“Fuck the sports bra, babe. I don’t give a shit about my nipples; I need my princess to be okay.”

Erin dashes to get changed and you place the box on the table. You grab the small portable water bottle and fill it up, before attaching it to the cage sides. Nipping upstairs, you put the other five chins in their cage and shut the door. You feed them and give them their snacks, before filling up their water bottles and attaching them to the wire mesh sides.

“You ready?” Erin calls. You appear atop the ladder.

“Yes, fed the children, and given them plenty of water and snacks. Let’s sort Betsy out.”

* * *

You pull up outside the vets and dash in, carrying the carry box. You book an appointment, and as it’s relatively quiet, you’re seen in half an hour.

“Ah, Dr Holtzmann, back again, are we? When was the last time I saw you?”

“About a year ago, with my chins.”

“How are the dears?”

“Well, Betsy is poorly and I’m wondering if you could take a look at her?”

“Yes, of course. Pop her on the table and then you’ll have to vacate the room; I’m afraid, usual practice.”

“Alright Dr Gibbons.” You reply, placing the box on the table and getting a timid Betsy out of it. She squeaks and shakes, but you stroke her comfortingly and speak softly to her. “Hey now, hey now. Dr Gibbons is gonna look after you, princess. You’re gonna be fine, Betsy, baby, you’re in good hands.” She immediately calms down and you smile at her, before kissing her fur and leaving her in the hands of the vet.

Sitting in the waiting room, Erin leaves you to find a vending machine and in the silence your mind begins to wander. It first focuses on Betsy and then you find yourself thinking about the future. Of course, now isn’t a good time to mention any futuristic plans, so you push that to the recesses of your mind and push the thoughts about Betsy to your prefrontal cortex.

She hands you a cup of coffee. “White with two sugars. Your blood sugars are low.”

“How can you tell?”

“I’ve been with you for three years, I _know_ when you’re sugars are low. Trust me.”

“Yes, ma’am. Thank you, honey.” You say, gratefully receiving the paper cup. You blow on the surface and watch it ripple with your breath, before tenderly sipping at the hot coffee. She places her hand on your knee, and you sigh, despairingly.

“She’ll be alright you know.”

“Yeah, I hope so. She and Steven were my first chinchillas.”

“I thought he was called ‘Steve’?”

“Oh, he is. His full name is Steven Robert Holtzmann. And Betsy is Elizabeth Holtzmann.”

“Wow, do they all have long names, or just those two?”

“Just my first babies. They helped me through a lot of shit, so I’ll be super sad if my princess doesn’t make it.”

“I understand, but you do have another five…”

“It won’t be the same, Erin. I know it won’t. I have a lead heart already.”

Erin squeezes your knee and kisses your cheek. “Please don’t be sad, Holtz.”

_Half an hour later_

Dr Gibbons arrives from around the corner, carrying a small light Violet chinchilla in his hands. She nuzzles against his large hands. As Dr Gibbons arrives, her small head, with black eyes pop up and she inquisitively looks about her. She sees you and immediately begins squeaking with excitement. She trills excitedly before attempting to jump from the vet’s hands. He reaches you and you scoop her up, hugging her close to your heart. She nuzzles into your neck and you feel her warmth radiating.

“Poor girl still had three baby teeth and her adult teeth were pushing them into her gums. I’ve pulled the baby teeth out and given her some medicine, she should be alright in a couple of days, but watch her and make sure she eats.”

“Thank you, Clive. I appreciate it.”

“A pleasure as always, Jill.” He smiles at you, giving Betsy a fuss, before nodding, handing you a vet’s bill and disappearing.

You pay the bill and pick up the carry box from next to your chair and leave with a satisfied chin.

_Two hours later_

With hands laden with bags, you feel yourself becoming weary at being dragged around the shops. It seems like it wasn’t so long ago that you went grocery shopping. But Erin, complete with a list of all the necessary, and some unnecessary items, was determined to get the shopping in today. You finally reach the Camaro and Erin pops open the boot. You dump all your things inside it and she turns to you, gleefully.

“Right then, now that that’s done, time to get you a ring.”

“Can we not just have you have one?”

“No, you’ve got to have one too.”

“Babe, most men don’t wear an engagement ring, and most power couples have at least one of the pair _not_ wearing the ring; usually the more butch one, unless you’re both butch, or both femme. We’re not bound by the same proposal standards as heterosexual couples, so it doesn’t really matter.”

She tilts her head to one side. “Sugar, I know you’re not much of a ring wearer, but you’re gonna have to get over that when you’ll be wearing one on the actual day itself.”

“Can’t we just pick our wedding rings, today?”

“Alright, I like that compromise. Let’s go get you a wedding ring.”

“Can it be a band?”

“Sure, whatever you want, cupcake.” She squeezes your hand, and then puts both her hands on the sides of your face. “Whatever you want, you shall have.” She says, kissing you full on the mouth. You reciprocate and feel the world melting away from you.

She takes you by the hand to look in various jewellers, when you get a call from Abby.

“Hey muppet, what’re you up to?”

“Um, shopping with Erin, why?”

“Are you getting a new watch, or her a necklace?”

“Um, maybe, why?” you ask, looking about you to try and find Abby on the street.

“Cos you’re outside the jewellers right now, aren’t you?”

“What, are you stalking me?” you quip, before looking up at the sign of the jewellers. You cover the microphone of the phone and whisper to Erin _“Abby’s around here somewhere, she can see us outside the shop. Should we tell her now, or in the office, later; we could have a team meeting?”_

_“Ooh, is she really, um, say you’re getting me a new necklace and we’ll call a team meeting. I’d rather have everyone present, than accidentally leave someone out.”_

_“Good plan.”_ You uncover the microphone and speaker. “I’m getting Erin a new necklace, but we need to have a team meeting. 1pm, Ghostbusters HQ. Be there.”

“Alright, dude, see you then!” she hangs up.

“I can already see Patty and Abby freaking out.” You say.

“But what about Kevin?” Erin asks, laughing.

“Kevin didn’t even know what the Ghostbusters do, so I wouldn’t put it past him.”

“Put what past me?” Kevin asks, appearing out of the blue behind you. You widen your eyes and wheel around, as Erin thrusts her hands into her pockets.


	29. Chapter 27

“Umm… Metaphors. We’re talking about metaphors and I’m wondering if you even know what they mean?” You say, quickly.

“Could you use it in a sentence?”

“It’s raining cats and dogs.” Erin suggests.

Kevin scratches his head for a moment. “Well, it isn’t and it never could. That would be impossible.”

“Okay, do you know what a simile is?”

“Um, no.”

“You’re as thick as a brick.” You say, deadpan. Erin nudges you.

“Thank you, that’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said about me.” He says, beaming.

“Haha! Are you serious, right now, Kevin?” You joke. “Right, well we must dash, got fresh food waiting in the car and they require refrigeration.” You say, pulling at Erin’s white cotton button down shirt.

“Team meeting, 1pm, at the Headquarters.” Erin adds, before allowing you to pull her away.

“Gotcha boss!” He says after you wander down the way you came. He gives you thumbs up and you nod at him, emphatically.

“ _Fuck me, that was close.”_ You whisper, whilst you’re still in earshot. The pair of you speed up and disappear around the corner. Leaning against the side of a building en route to the car park, you both breathe a sigh of relief, and giggle quietly between you.

“Oh, my God. Talk about bad timing.” You say, placing your hands on your knees and bending forwards. “How does he do that? Jus-jus-just turns up, out of the blue.

“I don’t know, but it’s freaky.” Come on, it’s 12:10pm, let’s get back to the apartment, before we head back to the HQ.” You nod and the pair of you walk towards the carpark and find the Camaro, in a spot isolated from the other vehicles.

* * *

It’s five to 1 and you’re nervously waiting for the others to arrive. You’re pacing backwards and forwards down in reception and Erin, who is as cool as a cucumber, is reading a _Grazie_ magazine and trying to calm you down.

“Holtz.” she says, not looking up from her magazine. She tries again. “Holtzy.” You’re still pacing and this time, she puts the mag down. “Holtzmann.” You’re still pacing. With a sigh, she full-names you, trying to get you to sit down. “ _Jillian Holtzmann.”_ She stresses your name and you stop, mid-pace. Your back is to the door and so you don’t hear the three come in, until Patty calls to you.

“What have you done now, Holtzy? Man, you never get full-named unless you’ve done something wrong.”

“Oh, thank God you’re here. Sit, sit. All of you sit.”

“Jesus, this is like a National Emergency. What’s Trump done now?”

“Ha, funny. Just sit, will you?”

“Holtz, that was rude.” Erin says, giving you a telling-off look.

“ _Please_ sit.” You try again, hands on hips, and looking stressed out.

“Man, why’re you so stressed?”

“Because you’re late. You know how I get. And this is a very important meeting. I need all eyes on me, please, and Kevin, buddy, get off your phone.”

“Yes, boss. Sorry.”

“Thank you.” You inhale deeply and hold your breath for a while, before exhaling again, whilst looking at Erin out of the corner of your eye. You can tell that she is just itching to tell them straight away, but she knows it means a lot to you and therefore allows you to tell them in your own way and in your own time.

“Alright, so first of all, thanks for being here today. I know it’s a Saturday, and you probably have much better things to be doing, but I appreciate y’all being here. The last few months have been stressful to say the least. I’ve been missing, the ghost attacks went up, I came back, they went down. Erin went away, the reports showed that spectral visitations largely stayed constant and then we had that Class IV in the library – Oh, yeah, Erin, forgot to tell you about that. Eleanor Twitty, Head Librarian at the New York Public Library, was causing havoc, and basically being a little shit, so the three of us took her down and basically wiped her out. And then there’s the whole thing with the Black Slime, which I haven’t gotten around to dealing with yet; it’s on my radar, just middle tier priority at the minute. There needs to be some alterations to the Slime to provide a decent reading, and to ascertain to which level of classification it needs to be and whether or not a ectoplasmic portal will be created either between the Ghostworld and our world, or, perhaps, less viciously, an alternate reality – both of which, _theoretically,_ can be possible; but I need to scientifically prove whichever theory to be true and I cannot do that just at the minute. Thirdly, as you know, Erin and I live together – have done for several months now…” you say, filling their heads with vaguely important information.

“Babe, it’s been about a year and a half…” Erin interrupts.

“It has?” you ask, surprised.

“Yes, Holtzy. 18 months and 2 days, to be precise. I know you like to be precise, and with my OCD, I do too.”

“Well, there we go then. What she said. Anyhoo, approx. 18 months and that means … _Kevin,_ pay attention … that we’re pretty serious. So serious in fact that Erin and I are engaged.” You say supressing a grin.

“Wait, what?” Abby says, at the exact same time as Patty says: “Woah, woah, woah, woah.” They look between you and each other.

“Hold up.” Abby says, holding her palm towards you. “Back up a minute.”

“What? We’re living together?”

“No, Holtz, man, after that.”

“We’re serious?”

“What was the last thing you said?” Abby asks, knowing full well what you said, but wanting to hear it again.

“Ohhh, yeah, we’re engaged.”

Patty laughs and claps her hands and Abby shrieks with joy. Even Kevin claps in a congratulatory manner.

“Damn girl. Congrats, ladies!” Patty beams.

“MY BEST FRIENDS ARE GETTING MARRIED. YEEHAW!” Abby yells.

“Congrats, bosses.” Kevin says, standing to shake your hands.

Erin proceeds to show them all her ring, whilst you put your hands in your pockets and lean against the desk, your waistcoat falling in front of your arms. You spread your legs in a wide stance, which you know, if Erin looks at you, will make her go jelly-legged and grin to yourself. “I told you they’d freak, babe.” You say. She turns and sees you manspreading and lets out a satisfied noise – the sound vibrating in her throat. She shakes her head and bites her lip and you know you’ve got her right where you want her. She looks up at the ceiling and crosses her legs as she stands; you know that she is now turned on. You wink at her and grin.

 _“Later.”_ She mouths as she looks at you with wide eyes. However, she approaches you and with one smooth motion, you bring your right leg out, and grabbing her waist with your left hand and placing your right hand behind her head, you tip her backwards just over your leg and kiss her firmly. She flushes bright red, but cups your face with both her hands and kisses you back. Abby and Patty look at you, with their mouths agape and Kevin stands there, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck.

When you pull Erin back up again, she bites your lip and pulls it out a little. You inhale sharply, and now it’s your turn to be horny. You part and she steps back a bit, leaving you blinking, with your mouth open. You touch your lips with two fingers and stare at her. Letting your index finger linger on your bottom lip for a bit, you turn to the other three.

“Wow. That was sensual.” Abby says, before pushing air out of her mouth quickly.

“That was like a romance movie dance move.” Patty says, agreeing with Abby.

“Is it alright if I take off?” Kevin asks unexpectedly. “I wish you congratulations, but I feel out of place here. Like talking about engagements is kinda a woman’s thing, no? Plus, you can’t have a Stag Do, and so I’m not needed.”

“Kevin, I can have a Stag Do – Well, a Hen Do, and seeing as my social circle is limited, you’ll be invited. I can guarantee poontang and ass.”

“And how are you gonna do that, short of a strip club?”

“Kevin, do you even know me at all?”

“Yes?” he offers, shrugging.

You blush, as that is _exactly_ what you have planned. “Well, Gilbert won’t want to go to a strip club, so that’ll be off the table.”

“And how do you know what I want?” She says, smirking at you.

“Well, _do you_ want to go to a strip club?”

“Maybe, we’ll see; if you’re good. There’s always Vegas?”

“If you wanna go to Vegas, Eri, we can go to Vegas.”

“How about a strip club _in_ Vegas?”

“Oh, honey, _now,_ you’re talking my language.” You say, chuckling as you speak.

Kevin slips out, unnoticed by the four of you and you continue to discuss options for your joint Hen Do. You talk animatedly for the next half an hour, until you all gather around the central table upstairs and Erin, being Little Miss Organised, writes down everyone’s ideas, and starts researching them for price quotes.

“Hey, where’s Kevin?” you ask, looking about the room.

“Huh, I guess he went out.” Erin says.

Abby scoffs. “Men. Amirite?”

You all laugh.

“God, I’m sooo happy for y’all. Like, seriously, congrats, guys.” Patty says, sniffing, before crying and bringing you and then Erin into a hug. “Now y’all messed up my makeup. Goddamn it.” She says, still crying, and playfully punching you both in the arm. She laughs tearily and the four of you encircle one another, holding on tightly.

_Six weeks later_

Erin wakes up and hurriedly dashes to the bathroom, where she throws up. You hear her and roll over onto your back, staring up at the ceiling. You sigh because you want to go and help, but also you don’t want to because a) you don’t like vomit and b) whenever Erin is sick, she doesn’t want you to see her like that. You cast your mind back and grin as you become aware of what is happening.

“Babe?” you enquire. “You alright?”

“Hold my hair?” she asks, before throwing up again.

You throw back the covers, exposing your tight-abs stomach and pull down your sports bra, which is halfway up your breasts. You climb out of bed, and pull down your boxers, which have also ridden up during the night. You grab Erin’s bobble off the bedside cabinet, and push open the bathroom door, to find her, on her knees, with her head in the bowl. You rub her back and gather her long red hair into one hand, before roughly tying it in a bobble. She vomits again and you pull a face. She stops and you hear her sobbing.

“Hey, Erin, it’s alright. Why you crying?”

“I don’t like being ill.”

“Honey, nobody likes being ill. And, I don’t think you’re ill. I think your body’s accepted the … yano … and that’s why you’re being sick.”

“Wait? You mean…?”

“Uh-huh. Erin Holtzbert, we’re having a baby.” You pat her gently on the back as she throws up again. “Six weeks ago we got the, the stuff, and well, here you are, throwing up cos of morning sickness. Hah! I’m very excited for us!”

“Excited?”

“Yeah, well you will be too. I hope.”

“You’re not the one who’s pregnant.” She says, sternly.

“You’ve got a much better set of hips.” You say. She punches you in the arm.

“Why can’t you just say _sperm_ babe?”

You sigh. “Alright, fine. Your body’s accepted the _sperm_ from the donor.”

“It is what it is. You know why we did it. IVF is far too expensive.”

“And, well, you’ve had an actual dick inside of you, so it was easier for you to have the sperm than me.”

“Honey, I didn’t actually shag a man, you know that right?”

“Yes, I was there. Some guys jizzed in a cup and donated it to the Sperm Bank and we went in, told them our story, filled out numerous forms, sat through the options, made an informative decision, and settled on Dr Earnhart, who incidentally is from Harvard.”

“Okay, well, yeah.” She says, before sitting on the floor and wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. You pull off some toilet roll and wipe her mouth and the back of her hand for her, and then you disappear to get her a glass of water.

You return and hand it to her, mumbling about her breath and she slaps you again, this time quite forcefully.

“Heeey! That hurt.”

She pokes her tongue out at you. “I know my breath stinks, I’ve just thrown up, you fanny. Thanks for telling me, but I know, I can taste it.”

“Lush.” You say, pulling a face.

She drinks the water and you wash your hands, climbing back into the warm bed and she brushes her teeth, washing her hands in the process. “When we gonna tell everyone then?” she asks.

“When you start to show? I dunno.” You say, feeling your eyes get heavy.

“That’s fair enough.” Erin says, rejoining you and breathing her minty fresh breath in your face. You sigh and get up to brush yours as you can’t sleep with an unclean mouth.

You get back into bed and kiss Erin all over, paying particular attention to her belly. “Hey there little alien, welcome to Erin’s uterus, have fun growing in there, tiny one.”

“It’s not an alien, it’s a baby.”

“Honey, have you ever seen a foetus at 6 weeks? It legit looks like an alien.”

“Okay, but that’s our child you’re offending.”

“Say that again.”

“Child?”

“No, the bit before as well.”

“ _Our_ child?”

“Yes, I like the sound of that. Erin … we’re gonna be Moms.” You say, getting a sudden lump in your throat. Your nostrils flare as your eyes start to water. She kisses you and strokes your cheek.

“Yes, I know. I can’t wait, and I love you, my queen.” She holds your face, into her bosom and the pair of you start crying happy tears as the night drags on.

_Five months later_

Erin is determined to continue working right up until her due date, but you try and talk her into taking maternity leave.

“Love, you need to think about maternity leave. The three of us can manage, and you told me, surprisingly, that Kevin is quite capable of using a Proton Pack. I don’t understand how you’re not even showing; it’s like, what five months now? How, how…?”

“Honestly, I don’t know. I understand as much as you do, cos other women we’ve seen around this time, have quite noticeable bumps. I don’t even think Ab and Pat know…let alone Kev!”

“Look, Erin, honey, we’re self-employed and we have the right to take time off. We’ve established our own company and have a huge reputation, and incidentally a gathering of followers, I’m sure we can take time off. And if we can’t, then _you_ most certainly will be taking time off. No ifs, buts, or ands, you’re taking time off. I’m the boss, I say so.”

“Oh, I _know_ you’re the boss.” She says, with a wink.

“Not what I meant, but thank you. I mean, Abby and I are the founding members of the Ghostbusters, so technically, in theory, if you want to look at it in this way, we are yours, Patty’s and Kevin’s bosses, as we’re the primary cornerstones. I know we all work together, and we’re all business partners, but as a founder, I’m technically your boss, ergo, I’m ordering you to take maternity leave. I’ll just speak to the Mayor, as the major funds are coming from him and his department, and I’m positive he’ll give you maternity pay. Him and I are like that.” You cross your middle finger over your index of your right hand and hold it up to her.

“Alright boss.” She says, giving a salute. You tilt your head at her. “If you’re gonna do ‘The Lesbian Salute’, do it properly, babe.” You say, doing a two-fingered salute. She giggles at you, and does the same thing. You kiss her on her forehead and get ready for the day.

“Let’s surprise the girls, and Kevin, and the gender reveal party.”

“OhmyGod, yeees!” Erin squeals. “When are we gonna have it?”

“Whenever we want to – Do you wanna find out soon, or wait a bit longer?”

“Well we’re 22 weeks now, so we’re over halfway.”

You kiss her and her belly. “Let’s book an ultrasound this week.”

“We’re due for one in two days’ time anyway, Holtz.”

“Oh, okay. Well, we’ll ask then.”

“Sure thing babe.” Erin throws on a pair of maternity joggers and an oversized Aerosmith t-shirt, which you picked up at the thrift store. You also don a pair of joggers; a handmade made t-shirt of the ‘No Ghost’ logo and your bottle-cap classes, which you haven’t worn for a couple of weeks. You help her to put on her Nike Air One sneakers, before pulling on a pair of dino socks and your Vans.


	30. Chapter 28

_1 August, 2019_

The day finally arrives where you’re going to reveal the gender of your baby. True to his word, your Father is there, full of anticipation and support, and also, your Mother is in attendance, and for the first time, she looks genuinely happy. She is also sober, which is a life-altering moment for her.

You’re standing in your grey suit pants, with a light blue shirt on, underneath a matching grey waistcoat. Around your neck is a floral neckerchief. You’re in the process of rolling your sleeves up past your elbow, when Erin approaches you.

“You ready for this, babe?”

“Nope. I’m shitting it, to be honest. At least both my parents are here.”

“That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

“I suppose so, but I’m nervous about their reaction, in all honesty. You did tell them it was an engagement party, didn’t you?”

“Yes, Jillian, I did; just like you asked me too. Abby and Patty asked why it was so late of an announcement, but I just explained that was when both our families could be present.”

“Alright, that’s fair, I suppose.” You say, exhaling.

“Stop playing with your sleeves. They’re perfect, just like you.”

“Heh. Well, I’ll take the compliment, but I’m nervous, babe.”

“Want me to do the talking?”

“Introductions, yes. I’ll end up comparing us all to atoms!” you say, wringing your hands together, and adjusting your sleeves for the fourth time. She waits until both of them are neat, aligned and crease-free, before taking both your hands in hers and giving them a little squeeze. She picks up a champagne flute and a cake fork, lightly tapping the surface to get everyone’s attention.

She clears her throat. “Mom, Dad, Mr and Mrs Holtzmann, friends. Thank you all so very much for attending this party at this beautiful location here in Greenwich Village. It’s a glorious day, and you’re all looking wonderful. Jillian and I have invited you here to celebrate with us, as we both have some exciting news, which we want you to be a part of.” She turns to you, and freaking out, you subtly shake your head. She smiles, kisses your cheek and continues. You watch her, in her pretty blue dress, with a diamond bangle glinting in the sunlight. She is stunning today, even more so than usual, and the sunlight bounces off her luscious red hair. “So, first of all, Jillian, who I’m afraid, has gone all shy, and I, would like to formally announce our engagement.”

There’s a scattering of applause, and you look, with anxiety creeping in, to your parents, who both hesitate to clap with the others. You begin to panic and your hands become clammy. You squeeze Erin’s hand, and the sharp crushing of her fingers, alerts her to your panic. “ _Babe, what’s the matter?”_

 _“My parents aren’t entirely happy; my Mother’s face looks harsh. She said she would be happy for us, but I guess she’s set in her ways.”_ You start to hyperventilate and your chest gets tighter and tighter. _“I can’t … breathe…”_ You manage to say. Your heart beats faster, and you start sweating. Erin puts her glass down and turns to you.

_“Babe? Are you okay? Do I need to call an ambulance?”_

You shake your head. “ _Anxiety … attack.”_ You struggle to say, your face twisting in pain. You try to breathe, but find you can’t, for some bizarre reason, and then, you faint.

You come around, to find yourself sitting in a chair, inside the private function hall, facing the beer garden, with an icepack pressed to your neck, to cool your blood. You hear your Mother fussing about you fainting; you try to make out the words, but suspect she’s belittling you, saying how you have to be the centre of attention. Despite your best efforts, to try and understand her jibing, you can’t hear her as she’s too far away. Finally, all of your feelings come back and you complain about the coldness on your neck. “Ahh, babe, that’s cold.” You say.

“It’s an icepack, that’s why.”

“But why, though?”

“Too cool your blood. After you fainted, my Dad suggested this to be the fastest way to bring you around, and you potentially could have woken up with a nosebleed; it can happen, he says.”

“Well, tell Dr Gilbert thank you.” You say, trying to pull the icepack away from your skin.

“You know he’s Nurse Gilbert, right? He’s not actually a Doctor.”

“Aw man, I always thought he was Dr. Gilbert.”

“Not yet, he’s working towards becoming a Doctor, but he’s just a nurse, at the minute anyway.”

“Did I hear my name?” A clean-shaven man in a light-grey three piece suit, wearing a white shirt and a lilac-and-white diagonally striped tie, appears through the French doors. He crouches down in front of you and places a hand on your knee. He’s always been highly supportive of his daughter’s relationship and welcomed you into their family as soon as you met.

“I’m sad you’re not actually a Doctor, sir. I always thought you were!”

“Does that give a bad impression of me, Holtz?”

You smile, as that is the first time he’s ever called you ‘Holtz’. “Well, no, but I always thought you were a Doctor, cos Erin said so.” He chuckles and pats your knee, before noticing his shoelace is undone. “Are those Oxfords?” you ask, perking up.

“You know they are, Jillian.” he says, noticing your white-and-brown pair. “Yours are pretty damn smart, hun.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Jillian, please call me Bill. We’ve known each other as long as you’ve been dating my daughter.”

“Alright, that makes sense. Are my parents still floating about?”

“Yes, and your Mother’s been in hysterics.”

“Oh, Christ. _Why?”_ You ask, sighing.

“She’s actually been highly worried for you. My wife had to battle with her to put the champagne down. I believe Greg had also been trying, saying that she was 4 months sober. Marjory managed to wrestle the glass off her, but she was getting irate.”

“Ugh, typical.” You sigh again, shaking your head.

“I’ll go talk to her. Babe, the icepack is giving me freeze-burn.”

“Oh, shit, sorry.” Bill tips his head at his daughter. “Oh, sorry, yeah Holtzmann got me started with the swears, but she’s not a bad influence.”

“I always was brought up to believe that those who cussed had an average to below-average IQ, but you have taught me a thing or two in that regard.”

You grin sheepishly. “Our colourful language just means we are able to express ourselves in a slightly deeper way, bringing meaning and sometimes extra oomph to the words we utter.” You say, trying to sound poetic to justify your reasoning behind the swearing. “In all honesty, Bill, that was complete horseshit; which is more ardent than bullshit. I swear because my Mother swore; frequently. Oh, on the outside, she was a perfect Christian, and an equally perfect Mother, but behind closed doors? Haha, whoo, she was the Devil incarnate. And I was always the subject of her humiliation, torment, abuse and colourful language. But apparently, she’s changed for the better. Still doesn’t justify the last 30 years, but today, we’ll let that one slide.” You stop speaking as your Mother, in a canary-yellow ensemble bristles through the French doors, attempting to look as important as the Queen of England. “Mom.” You say through gritted teeth, receiving a look from Bill and an elbow in the ribs from Erin. “How are you?” you say, forcefully, but in a more relaxed tone.

“Never mind about me, what happened, Jillian?”

“I fainted, Mom.”

“Well, I gathered that, sweetie, but any particular reason why?”

“Anxiety attack. It happened, deal with it, move on.” You say, wanting to end the conversation.

“Well, I sincerely hope you’re alright. I feel like this party requires some music, don’t you, Bill?”

“Well, I think that’ll happen a bit later, but I think these two need to tell us their proposal story. Isn’t that right, kiddo?” he asks, winking at his daughter.

“Yes, that’s right. Come along, Holtz.” You get up, slowly, and you’re feeling much better than you were, even though your Mother was the contributing factor to your fainting episode.

“ _Be happy for her, Karen._ ” Bill whispers, with slight aggression in his tone.

_“I actually am happy for her; for the both of them. My little girl is getting married. Well, not so little any more. She’s 34, yano?”_

_“I am aware of the fact, Karen. Erin’s 43, born 22 August 1974, and Jillian was born 6 January 1985.”_

_“Okay, well, I’m happy for them both.”_

_“Good, you should be, because I can see, anyone can see, how much of an impact you have on Jillian. You make her uneasy, your presence around her changes dramatically than when you’re around other people; there’s obvious tension there, and I think you need to try and reconcile that – I’m not telling you how to be a parent, but I think that’s why she fainted. She’s desperate for your love, guidance and approval, and she’s never had it. She’s not acting out, this isn’t a phase. Our daughters were born gay, and I totally accept that. Jesus loved everyone; he was an exceptional role model and if you’re that in-tune with the Bible as you say you are, then perhaps you need to focus less on the Old Testament, and more on the New Testament. And, also, focus on ‘Love Thy Neighbour’ because, even though she’s your daughter, you’re treating her like an outsider, and that isn’t fair on her. Your relationship is unhealthy.”_

_“Who are you, my Mother?”_

_“No, I’m a trained psychiatrist and a nurse at a mental health hospital, training to become a mental health practitioner.”_

_“Oh.”_ Karen nods her head and wanders off. Bill shakes his and joins you all outside.

Erin squeezes your hand, and taps the side of her glass, waiting for the murmuring to cease.

“Hi, everyone. I want to apologise for fainting, I had a bit of an anxiety attack, but I’m all good now. Um, second to what Erin said, I also would like to thank you all for being here. It means a lot to me that you’re all here. Especially my Mom; you mean a _lot_ to me, you know that? You infuriate me, drive me nuts and sometimes I want to kill you, but I love you and that’s all that matters. Now, without further ado, we have some announcements to make. Okay, well one’s already been done, and we’ll tell you the engagement story in detail, later, but in short it went like this. I cooked us a romantic meal, on Valentine’s Day, which is so apt, if you think about it, and then I proposed. She cried, and said yes.” You kiss her on the cheek, and squeeze her hand. Everyone, including your Mother starts clapping. You hold both hands out, and raise and lower them, indicating silence to befall. “Okay, now, as exciting as that is, we have even more exciting news, and for that, I’m gonna need some assistance, so I’m gonna call upon Anita, the lovely waitress who greeted you all with a champagne flute.” You nod your head towards a young Chinese lady. She disappears and comes back moments later with a plain white balloon and a drawing pin. She hands them both to you and you thank her. You and Erin both grab the string and look at each other. “Okay, so we’d like y’all to be the first to know…” you pop the balloon and pink confetti explodes out, falling in a flurry to the floor. You sniff and Erin kisses you.

“We’re having a little girl!” Erin finishes. The applause erupts and you hear Abby and Patty shrieking. Even your Mother is whooping.

“Oh, my God, I’m having a grandbaby. Greg, we’re having a granddaughter!” She rushes up to you and pulls you into a bone-crushing hug. She kisses your forehead, nose and both cheeks. “Jillian, Erin, congratulations on both your engagement and your pregnancy, but which one…?”

You point at Erin. “My honey is having the baby. Mom, do you really think I’m gonna push a baby out of my cooter?”

Karen swats at you.

“Sorry, sorry, my _vagina_.”

“Well, no, but still, congrats, and Erin, you’re not even showing!”

“I know, it’s crazy; I’m 22 weeks.”

“That _is_ crazy!” your Mom says, laughing wildly. “I’m going to have one quarter glass of champagne to celebrate.”

“Mom, come on, you’re 4 months sober, don’t break it for us. _Please?”_ you say in a whining tone of voice. You pout at her, looking like your younger self and she pinches your cheeks.

“Oh, how can I say no to that face? You look just like your 6 year old self, Jill. Before I was such a monster to you. You have my blessing to marry your sweetheart, and I believe Greg already gave you his?”

“He did. And thanks, Mom, that means the world to us; me especially.”

“I know, pumpkin, I know.” She kisses both cheeks, shakes your hands, and disappears to go and mingle.

Anita appears at your side. “Congratulations, Ms Holtzmann and Ms Gilbert.”

“Er, Doctors, but thank you.”

“Oh, my apologies.” She bows fully. “The buffet is almost ready, Dr. Holtzmann.”

“Perfect. Oh and here. _Don’t_ put it in the shared pot. That’s specifically for you.” You hand her a $50 dollar note.

“I can’t accept this.”

“You can and you will.” You say, smirking at her.

She nods and does a slight bow before exiting.

You take Erin’s hand and the pair of you go around speaking to various members of both families, as well as Abby, Patty and Kevin, who is joined by his brother and sister; whom you also invited.

“Good afternoon.” Quentin says, in Queen’s English, extending a hand, which you and Erin each shake; a firm, well-mannered shake. “I’d like to formally introduce myself. I am Quentin; adopted brother of Kevin, and Danielle. I would like to thank you both for extending the invitation to the two of us and I wish to bestow upon you the upmost congratulations, on both your engagement and your pregnancy. I wish you well in both endeavours, and sincerely hope everything runs smoothly for you both. But, I must ask, if you don’t mind me doing so, have you selected a name for your daughter, or is that still yet to come?”

You look at each other and speak at the same time: “Jane.”

“What a delightful name! I’ve always loved that name, and it is beautiful, just like the pair of you.” He inclines his head and kisses the back of your hand, before doing the same to Erin. You smirk at her, as that was one of the first introductions you gave to her. “If you shall excuse me, I must go and refill my glass. May I get either of you something to drink?”

“I’ll just have water, please.” Erin says.

You grin goofily. “Stella Artois, please Quentin.”

“Ah, another fine choice. Perfect. I shall be back in a jiffy.” He exits with a flourish and you turn to Kevin.

“Woah, dude, he is exceptionally well-mannered and spoken, and has a brilliant posture.”

“You never told us your brother was English!” Erin says, stunned.

“Yeah, well, I’m Aussie, he’s English, and Dani here’s the only American-born kid.”

“I thought you had twangs of Australian, but thought that was you putting on a voice.” You say, poking your bottom lip out in approval.

“Ha! I wish. No, born and bred in Australia. It’s an exciting story, but one for another day. Also, Quentin is highly intelligent. I’m sure the three of you will have some form of intellectual discussion, just don’t get him started on ‘Brexit’.”

“Urgh, I’ve heard so much about that. Must be awful?”

“It’s a nightmare in our house. As much as everyone dislikes it, we all agree Trump is the worst and PM May is the lesser of the two evils.”

“Yeah, I can imagine. We won’t mention it; if you’ve noticed, we hardly ever discuss politics. In the three years we’ve all been friends, we’ve probably had three heated discussions, 5 debates and several in-depth conversations, and that’s about it.” You say, shaking your head.

“Your water, m’lady. And, your pint of Stella, m’lady.”

“Aww, champion, mate. Thank you.” You gratefully receive the glass and take a large gulp, feeling the crisp, cool liquid slide down your oesophagus. You click your tongue and give a satisfied exhale, like people always seem to do when drinking something refreshing. “Oof, yes, new barrel. Proper crisp, that.”

You chat enthusiastically with Quentin, sharing jokes with Kevin and learning about Dani being a dancer, before the conversation turns to one of Quentin’s secret loves.

“Okay, so not many people actually know this about me, but I am a huge fan of aeronautics, astronomy, cosmology and astrophysics. I actually wanted to be an astronaut growing up, and I was quite the nerd, but I got bullied a lot for it, and alas, that dream went out the window for many years.”

“That’s a bummer.” You say, offering him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “Man, I’ve always been into quantum mechanics. I shit you not, I was a tearaway for it, just ask my Mom. But I’m sad that you couldn’t live your dream.”

“Kids is mean, man.” Patty says, slowly shaking her head.

“So, what do you do now Quentin?” Erin asks. You drink some more of your lager, intently waiting for what Quentin is going to say next.

“I’m glad you asked that, actually. I am a journalist, incidentally for a Science Magazine. I write for The Scientific Herald, and although it gets distributed to high Schools, we’ve just started underpinning the basic principles of cosmology and astronomy and how the cosmos have started, and the various names of the stars, galaxies and solar systems, including the vastness of space. I mean, it is written in a language which children from Year 7 up to Year 11 – Which I believe, is 6th Grade up to 10th Grade for you Americans – can understand, but I get to combine my passion for space science, with my passion for writing, so, although it’s all peaks and troughs, when I do get an assignment, shall we say, I am ecstatic to be able to do the things I love. Ideally, I would like to work for NASA, but being nearly 40, I doubt that they would hire someone of my age; they’ll want someone more hip and fresh, than someone who’s been around a bit.”

“Well, you never know. I mean, you should submit some work that way and see what happens. And I think Erin might actually know a few people, who work in NASA.”

“Well, I used to have some old contacts. My friend’s cousin from MIT ended up working there; but we’ve not spoken in so long. Not sure if Vanessa will still remember me, to be honest, but I can always try.”

“Oh, you don’t have to, but if you do, I will be forever in your debt. You are most gracious and I cannot thank you enough.”

The conversation continues for a while, until you spot your Mother, standing by a birch tree and beckoning you to join her.

“Um, ‘scuse me, my Mother’s trying to lure me away from you.”

“Do you need me to come with you?”

“No, I think I’ll be alright. I’ll holler if I need ya. Cheers, babe.” You kiss her cheek and, still clutching your lager, which you haven’t drunk for the last five minutes, you wander over to her, taking larger-than-normal strides. Just before you approach her, you hastily down your Stella and place the now-empty glass on a passing tray, thank the waiter in the process. You pull a face as you hold in a large burp, but it still escapes anyway; loudly. Your Mother pulls a disgusted face, you cover your mouth and everyone looks at you; Erin shaking her head.

“That’s my fiancée, ladies and gentlemen.” She quips, before giggling.

“Sorry, Mom, that just walked on out.”

“Never you mind. Anyway, I have something for you. I’m wondering if you wouldn’t mind joining me at the car?”

“Um, sure.” You say, uneasy.

Your Mother nods at you and gestures to a large gate set away from the main garden, but built into the wall, surrounded by beautiful, colourful flowers.

You walk next to her and she unlatches the gate and gestures for you to wander through it. You turn left and walk a short distance to a navy V40 Volvo. She unlocks the car, and wanders around to the back of it to open the boot. Inside is a small cardboard box, containing trophies and pictures from your childhood.

“Getting rid of my old stuff, I see?”

“Actually, no, Jillian. I wondered if you wanted any of these for keepsakes. We’re actually redecorating and we haven’t enough storage space, and I didn’t want to throw anything out. I’ve got your 1st Place Science Fair trophy, your soccer championships medal, your 1st Place Spelling Bee trophy from Second Grade, and various pictures and mementos. Also, there’s this.” She hands you a small black box.

The silver cursive writing has all but faded away, but you take it and open it slowly. Inside is a golden heart-shaped locket. You open it up and there is a photo of you and your Mother at your soccer championship and a black-and-white photograph of a lady you don’t recognise. “That’s your Great-Grandmother Mildred. This is her locket. Your Father told me about your engagement and I want you to have it. That day, the one of us, that’s my favourite memory of us. You were such a happy 8 year old, and I was so happy when you scored the winning goal. Just look at how big your grin is; even with a few missing teeth.” You smile and chuckle, a lump forming in your throat. “I don’t know what your plans are for your wedding, but they say ‘Something Old, Something New, Something Borrowed and Something Blue’. I know that’s usually for the bride, but I don’t know how it works for same-sex couples. That’s not something I’m familiar with. And now I can’t see you wearing a dress, but I can see you wearing an exceptionally smart suit, so there’s also this. It’s a gift card to ‘Alan David Custom Suits, NYC’ there’s about $3,000 on the card; which should cover it. I don’t know if you’re going to get a suit or a tuxedo, but I wanted you to have the options. I mean, it’s your day, so if you’re comfortable wearing something like your exceptionally smart suit, which you’re wearing now, then you may do so, but that is a gift from the pair of us. I wasn’t sure what to get Erin, so I got her a gift card for my favourite jewellers, which is Greenwich St. Jewellers. Again, there’s $3,000 on the card, so she has free-reign to choose whatever her heart desires. This is not me trying to bribe you for my love; I am offering you a peace offering and a gesture of goodwill, because I want you to have a splendiferous wedding, because you two are meant for each other – that much is obvious, and true – and I want you to be happy. I hope you accept these gifts of monetary value, but I understand if you don’t want to.” She concludes, slightly sadly.

You put the gift cards and box in your pocket and pull her in for a famous Holtzmann bone-crushing hug. You squeeze her, and the pair of you begin crying on the street.

“Thank you, Mom.” You say between tears. “This is the nicest thing you’ve done for me, and I thank you and wholeheartedly accept your gifts; I might have to persuade Erin a little, as she’s still a bit cautious of you, but thank you so, so much.” You release her from the hug and wipe your nose with the back of your hand. She smiles for the first time.

“I see that you’re still wiping your nose on the back of your hand. Somethings really don’t ever change. You’ve been doing that since you were 4.”

You blow air through your nose and smirk. “I guess some habits never die.”

“Speaking of habits. Your father quit smoking 11 years ago.”

“Oh, well, shit. Kudos to him. And what about your smoking habit?”

“I went cold-turkey the same time I stopped drinking; 4 months ago.”

“Fuck, that must’ve been hard.”

She rolls up her short-sleeve. “Nicotine patches; they don’t work for everyone, but they’ve worked for me. That’s one thing I’m thankful you didn’t take up; well, two things. Smoking and drinking.”

“I do drink, and I, err, I have smoked.”

“Really?”

“I was a student, Mom, shit happens when you’re a student. People do crazy things. I’ve smoked cigarettes and marijuana and drank heavily in the first two years of MIT. I have _never_ done anything harder than cannabis, and I don’t intend to. I’ve had hash brownies as well, as an adult. Even Erin and I have had a spliff together and she is so against the stuff. To be fair, she was super stressed, and needed just a little bit of green to take the edge off. Made the sex phenomenal, but that’s another story. I never smoked weed as a teen, no matter how high I looked; well, okay, except _one_ time when I was about 14, but that wasn’t intentional.”

“I knew you were high then.”

“And what happened?” you ask, worriedly.

“I didn’t care. I was high myself.”

“Woah, bringing out the drug stories!” You laugh.

“And I knew you smoked and drank in University. Remember we caught you with a spliff in your mouth once? You were as high as a kite and as drunk as a skunk. I don’t think you really registered we were there. Your eyes were so red, and puffy, and you spent the whole day zoned out. I’d never seen you eat so fast in my entire life!” Your Mom says, clapping you on the back and laughing heartily.

You nervously chuckle. “Sorry, I guess.”

“Eh, don’t be. You’re not an alcoholic or a druggy, and you only live once.”

“Yeah, that’s true.”

“Speaking of…” your Mom produces a bent, but tightly rolled joint from her breast pocket.

You cock your head to one side and purse your lips. “Um, what’s that?” you ask, as it’s so bent.

“Aw, fuck.” Your Mom swears for the first time in several years. She straightens it out and proffers it to you.

“Wow, you actually brought weed to my engagement party, huh?”

“Yeah, well, I knew it was gonna be a stressful day.”

“Man, that is one tight jay. We gonna smoke this together?”

“Yes, don’t tell your Father and I won’t tell your fiancée.”

“Well, how fucked are we gonna be?”

“Well, there’s no tobacco in this, and it’s strong stuff, so pretty fucked, I’d say.” You chuckle, in wonderment, as your Mom produces a Zippo lighter from her purse, sparking up right in front of you. She takes a long drag and hands you the joint.

You smoke it long and deep and instantaneously get a head-rush. “Ooh, wow, that’s strong shit.” You say, laughing giddily.

“It should be for $350!”

You splutter at the numbers. “Fuck! 350 bucks. Why?”

“Just what my dealer had. He knows me.”

“You have a dealer?”

“I’ve used the same family since I was 23.”

“You’ve smoked cannabis since you were 23?”

“Well, on and off. Stopped it when I found out I was pregnant. Had one or two when you were 3 and then I took it up as a coping mechanism when you went to Uni. Started drinking then too. So when we saw you with that spliff, I was dying to take it off you and smoke it myself, but I needed to set an example.”

“Did Dad ever find out?”

She sighs and takes the joint off you. “Yes, one of the reasons he left me, actually.”

“Well, shit.” You say, blinking a few times. You sit on the edge of the car, and fall into the boot, which prompts you to start giggling. You lie there, with your legs hanging out and your Mother pushes the box to one side before lying down next to you. You lie there, in silence, passing the joint between you until it’s all gone.

“That’s all I have Jill-bug, so I think we should head back now.”

You snort. “Hahaha. Oh, God, we’re fucked. But thanks for all this stuff.” You kiss her cheek and sit up, hitting you head with a _thwack_ on the top of the boot hole.

Your Mother laughs hysterically at you and you pull a face. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t laugh, but that was super funny.” She says, wiping tears from her eyes. You rub your head better and help her out of the car. She hands you the box and closes the boot, before locking the Volvo. Moving, as if in slow motion, you re-enter the garden and she shuts and locks the gate. Your Dad appears and wraps his arms around her waist, giving her a backwards hug. He kisses her cheek and winks at you. You nod, thank him for the gifts and rejoin your fiancée and your friends.

Erin sees you carrying the box and notices your eyes are all red. “Hey, Holtz, you okay?”

You nod slowly. “Yes, just had a Mother-daughter moment and it was pretty emotional; so we did a lot of crying. Look, I’ve got all my old trophies in here. She also gave me a locket necklace from my Great-Grandmother. And there’s, um…” you whisper to her, “… _there’s a $3,000 gift card for you and a $3,000 gift card for me. You might not want it, but I sure as hell am gonna buy myself a tuxedo, sweetie; tailor-made too. Yours is for Greenwich Street Jewellers as she wasn’t sure what to get you.”_ Erin nods, and the distinct smell of marijuana wafts into her nostrils, on the light breeze, which has just picked up.

She looks you up and down. _“Have you been smoking weed?”_

_“What?! Nooo… What gives you that impression?”_

_“I can smell it on you, Holtzmann.”_

“Ooh, who’s got the ganja?” Dani asks, far too loudly, as the breeze picks up again. You clear your throat and disappear inside, followed closely by Erin. Dani watches you disappearing and shrugs sheepishly.

“That’s oregano.” Kevin lies, loudly, before digging her in the ribs.

_“Holtzmann? Don’t lie to me, please. I can smell it on you. Where’d you get it from? Is that where you disappeared to? Are you that stressed, or are you having a juvenile moment?”_

_“Babe, smoking weed doesn’t make you a juvenile, for a start. And, as a second point, it was with my Mom, okay? I’m sorry. I didn’t plan on it happening. We were reminiscing a little bit, and she just produced this ridiculously tight jay and we just smoked it, a little, okay? We’re both pretty high; I’m afraid, so please don’t shout at me.”_

_“Oh, Holtzy, I’m not gonna shout at you, okay? And ‘juvenile’ was the wrong word, I’ll admit, I just didn’t know what else to say. I’m sorry, why didn’t you just tell me?”_

_“I am telling you, aren’t I?”_

_“Well, yes, you are. Does your Dad know?”_

_“No, that’s one of the reasons they got divorced; I just found out.”_ In that moment, you Father comes thundering through the door and he grabs you by the arm, before rough-housing you away from the windows and into the corridor. Erin hurriedly follows.

“Jillian Holtzmann. What in God’s name are you doing smoking marijuana with your Mother?!”

“Woah, woah, woah, Dad. She was the one who produced it. I don’t recall you ever having an issue with me smoking it at MIT. Mom told me that you guys showed up one day, to find me, fucked off my face, with a spliff in my mouth. And why the hell do you suddenly care now? I’m thirty-fucking-four, dad, and I’ll do what I damn well please!” You suddenly shout, irate at his temper. You sigh and rub your temples. The THC hitting your brain hard. You stand there, swaying backwards and forwards, his head becoming two heads. Your face contorts into a grin and you stifle a laugh. It doesn’t work and you snort again, before laughing out loud. “I’m s-sorry, but you, you’ve got two heads! OhmyGod!”

Your Dad simply frowns and sighs. “Look, I know you’re 34, and I’m sorry I got mad, but she said she’s been off it for the last 4 months, the same as the cigarettes and alcohol. She’s been clean for months, and in all honesty, and I’m ashamed of this accusation, but I thought _you_ were the one who coaxed her into it.” You blink a few times, and his two heads merge back into one.

“Trust me, there was no coaxing involved. We spoke about the time I was severely high at MIT and then she just pulled the joint out of her pocket at lit up. I didn’t think to stop her, to be honest…” You growl and begin raising your voice again, the anger and the pain of the last 30 years, boiling your blood, until you just explode like a volcano. “Do you realise how fucking stressful it’s been without you around; how tormented I’ve been? How she’s made my life a living hell since I was 10? And now, suddenly, she’s playing the Nice Game and it’s like we’re the best of chums and like the last 30 years didn’t matter?! Of course you wouldn’t know, you weren’t fucking there! And I’m sorry that I’m saying these things; I’ll probably regret them when I come down, but right NOW, THAT cannabis is like a fucking truth serum, and I’m pissed at the both of you!” The commotion has drawn the party-goers, but you’re too fuming to even care, let alone notice their presence. “I’ve been pissed at you for ditching me, I’ve been pissed at my mom for insulting me DAY IN AND DAY OUT and my sexuality, THROWING BIBLES AT MY HEAD AND PREACHING AT ME, and I’ve been pissed that you went and shagged some other bimbo, when you were supposed to be married to mom. I’M FUCKING FUMING AT THE BOTH OF YOU FUCKWITS FOR THE LAST 3O-FUCKING-YEARS OF FUCKING NEGLECT AND NOW YOU’RE SUDDENLY BACK IN MY FUCKING LIFE, AND MOM’S TRYING TO BE THE FUCKING QUEEN OF ENGLAND, AND I AM SO FUCKING STRESSED. MY fiancée IS PREGNANT, I DON’T HAVE A FUCKING CLUE WHAT TO DO, BECAUSE BOTH MY PARENTS WERE FUCK UPS, AND YOU KNOW WHAT DAD, I MIGHT BE SMART, BUT I ACTUALLY SUFFER FROM A NEUROLOGICAL CONDITION, CALLED ASPERGER’S, WHICH MAKES PRETTY MUCH EVERYTHING REALLY FUCKING HARD!” You grunt, loudly. “NOBODY ON EARTH IS PERFECT, LEAST OF YOU TWO ASSHOLES, BUT I’M TRYING MY FUCKING HARDEST TO BE GOOD AT MY LIFE, AND A GOOD PARTNER, AND GOOD AT MY JOB AND A GOOD FRIEND, AND SOMETIMES I CAN’T EVEN LEAVE MY DAMN APARTMENT WITHOUT HAVING A MELTDOWN OVER THE FUCKING DOOR BEING LOCKED!” You stop, noticing, for the first time, the onlookers. You close your eyes and put a hand to your mouth, before you start crying in front of the 30 guests, sliding down the wall to the floor.

Erin comes over to you, and sits next to you on the floor. She puts your head to her breast, and wraps you up, gently rocking you.

“ _Alright, alright, it’s okay. Just let it all out. You’re perfect to me, babe_.” She says, soothingly. As she does so, the rest of your colleagues join you and sit on the floor next to and in front of you, blocking the corridor. You continue sobbing on the floor. “ _I know, I know. Shhh, it’s gonna be alright, just take your time. I know you’re stressed, just take a couple of deep breaths. In … out …”_ You breathe with her, on the words ‘in’ and ‘out’, slowing your breathing and dissipating your sobs. You’re still on the floor, when Karen comes over and chivvies Abby out of the way, politely, and sits where she was sat.

“Okay, Mom’s here. What do you need, pumpkin?”

“Erin.” You snuffle. Your Mom squeezes your knee before getting back up and dragging Greg outside and away from you all. She drags him ear shot and they get in the car, where she berates him.

You sigh, your breath trembling, before you open your eyes, and wipe your face. You get up slowly and turn to your guests. “Well, nothing like a bit of family drama to keep y’all on your toes!” you chuckle awkwardly, breath still trembling. “I would like to formally apologise to everyone here for that tremendous outburst. We should all head towards the buffet.” You say, catching sight of Anita in your peripheral vision.

You take Erin’s hand and give her and your colleagues hugs, before Mr and Mrs Gilbert approach you. Bill rubs your arm soothingly and Rachel pulls you in for a tight hug. “ _I’m so sorry_.” She whispers. _“If you ever feel like you need some time away, you’re more than welcome to stay for as long as you need in Sea Cliff, Long Island. There’s not much there, except a dazzling beach, but it’s nice to get away from all the hustle and bustle of New York. Also, I know how much you mean to Erin, and I understand you’ve faced difficulties, but if you ever need a Mother-figure or a Father-figure to, excuse my crassness, ‘properly’ show you the love and support you need, and to show you the ropes on becoming a first-time Mom, please, whatever the time, day or night, please give us a call, Jillian, and we’ll be there in a jiffy!”_

You nuzzle into Rachel’s neck, and inhale her sweet perfume – classic Dior. You exhale, and pull your face away from her. She strokes your cheek, and wipes away a tear. “Oh, such a pretty face, don’t spoil it by frowning, my dear, you’ll end up all wrinkly like me.”

“You’ve not got wrinkles, Mrs G.”

“Ha! You’re too kind. No, I have worry lines. But, please, smile for me; I want to see that lovely, bright grin of yours.” You smirk and she strokes your jawline, raising her eyebrows, waiting for you to smile. You smile fully at her. “There we are, perfect. Such an angel.” She says, before kissing you on the cheek. Bill chooses to shake your hand, before patting your shoulder.

“I don’t need to tell you to look after her, perhaps I should be telling Erin to look after you!” he says, laughing heartily.

“It seems that way!” you say, joining in on the laughter. You pull away from them and wander towards the door to the dining room, before whirling around. “I would also like to apologise for my less-than-imaginative, but colourful language. Especially for young ears.” You say, inclining your head towards Dani. She flips you off, without anyone noticing, and you smirk, blowing air out of your nose.

You nod, and hold your hand out for Erin, who takes it. You hold the other hand out and Abby takes it, who holds on to Patty’s hand. The four of you, with your fingers interlaced with Erin’s wander through the double doors, in a line, holding on to one another.


	31. Chapter 29

_Three years later; Saturday July 16, 2022_

The day of your wedding has finally arrived and you’re pacing about in your room, waiting for Abby to arrive. Patty is with Erin, and Jane is playing with her grandma in the lobby. You’re dressed in charcoal suit trousers, with a white shirt, tucked into the waistband. Your sleeves are rolled up to the elbow – a favourite look of yours (and incidentally most lesbians which you know) and your waistcoat is hanging over the back of your chair, with the suit jacket on a hanger. You’re currently attempting to affix a burgundy bowtie to your collar, but you’re having difficulty because you could only find one which wasn’t pre-tied. You take it off and thrown it to the carpet in frustration, before slumping down at the dresser, placing your head in your hands.

Abby enters, wearing a multi-coloured floral dress, and white shawl. “Sorry I’m late, Holtz. I got stuck in … well, hey now, what’s all this? What’s happened?”

“I can’t tie my stupid bowtie. I’ve been trying for the last half an hour and even YouTube isn’t helping.”

“Alright, well, I had to tie several for my brothers, so I can help you. Ups-a-daisy.” She says, grabbing you under your arm, and hauling you to your feet. “Right, where is it?” You point to it on the floor. “Well, it’s no good down there, is it?” she asks, rhetorically, in a bright voice. She stands you square-on to her, and lifts your collar, before quickly tying it and straightening the bow tie. She puts down your collar, and brushes your shoulders across and down your arms, before helping you into your waistcoat.

“I’m shitting myself, Ab. I’m so scared and excited and nervous and happy, I think I wanna throw up.”

“Here, have this.” She says, handing you a small hipflask.

“The fuck’s in that?”

“Honey Jack Daniels.”

“Attagirl, Abby.” You say before taking a few sips.

“I know that’s your fave.”

Once you’re ready, you grab your suit jacket and don it, brushing it down and removing any creases. “How do I look?”

“Like a sexy man.”

You furrow your brow. “I don’t know whether to take that as a compliment, or…”

“I’m teasing. You look hot, Holtz. I’m glad it didn’t work out between us, yano, cos otherwise, you wouldn’t be marrying Erin; you two potentially wouldn’t have even met.” She kisses your cheek, and then proceeds to lick her thumb and rub the lipstick mark off your cheek. “Right, let’s get you downstairs and ready to go and I’ll check in on Erin and Patty. And by the way, Jane is the cutest.”

“Thanks, Ab.” You say, smiling broadly. “I can’t believe our cherub is _three._ Seems like only yesterday Erin was breastfeeding her and I was changing her diaper. Now I tickle her tummy and blow raspberries on it.”

“Aww, Holtz, you lil cutie.”

You blush. “Shurrup. Let’s get me married, babe!”

“Yes, sir!” she exclaims, giving a proper salute. You roll your eyes before following her into the corridor. The place you’ve chosen to get married is St Paul’s Chapel on Amsterdam Avenue, but you’re currently in the Four Seasons Hotel, near to Inwood Hill Park. You wander down the stairs to see Jane playing with giant ‘Lego’ blocks, sitting on the floor at Karen’s feet. You cross the marble flooring and sit on the leather sofa next to your Mother.

“Hello, darling, you look stunning.”

“Has she been good?”

“Exceptionally.”

“Mama!” Jane exclaims, dropping her ‘Lego’, which falls with a _clatter_ to the floor. She runs over to you and climbs on to your lap, where she attempts to nuzzle into you.

“Hang on, Jane, you’ve got a snotty nose. Let Mama wipe it for you.” You say, as Karen gets a wet wipe out of her handbag. “Thanks, Mom.” You say. Jane pokes her tongue out. “Um, excuse me missy that tongue belongs inside your mouth, thank you. Put it away, nobody wants to see it.”

“Sorry, Mama.” She says, nuzzling into you.

“Cheeky, madam.” You say, chuckling and kissing the top of her head.

“Where’s Mom?” she asks, looking at you inquisitively.

“Mom’s still getting ready. I’m not allowed to see her yet.”

“But why?”

“Because it’s bad luck.”

“But why?”

“Because the law says so.”

“Really?”

“No, Jane. It’s just tradition, poppet. When people get married, they don’t see each other before they walk down the aisle. The groom heads in first and waits patiently for his bride. It’s a little bit different for Mom and I, but I’m heading in first, and we’ll wait for Mom together, okay?”

“Why do you get to head in first?”

“Because, baby, I’m in the suit. I’m more boyish than Mom is, so I get to go in first. The one who wears the dress gets to make a grand entrance. If you both wear dresses, you walk in together, but from different sides, should the venue allow it; same as if you’re both in suits.”

“So you’re the boy of the couple?”

You let out an uncomfortable gay laugh. “Essentially yes, if you want to think of it that way. Mama’s the boy, and Mom’s the girl.”

“Oh, okay. I like this, Mama. It’s a pretty colour.”

“My bowtie? Thank you. Nanny helped me choose it.”

“Nanny chose the right colour.”

“She did indeed. Right, stinker, we need to get in the big posh car now and get to the chapel. Nanny and Bampy are coming with us, cos Bampy needs to walk Mama down the aisle. Gramms and Gramps will be going with Mom, cos Gramps is walking Mom down the aisle.”

“Okay.” Jane says, brightly. She slides off your lap, and you walk with her holding your hand, out of the lobby, where a Rolls-Royce is waiting for you outside. The driver, wearing a black suit and shiny plastic peaked hat, puts on a white glove and opens the back door. The driver is already prepared and you find a booster seat waiting for your daughter. You sit her in it and strap her in securely. Your Mother double checks it, before climbing in the middle of the three backseats. You climb in the front and your Dad climbs in the back.

Forty minutes later, you pull up outside the chapel and you exit the car. Carrying Jane inside you greet the Minster who is going to conduct the service. You shuffle Jane to your hip and pull down her dark-purple skirt, making sure her lavender top is tucked in nicely. Presently she is attempting to kick off one of her shoes. “Um, Jane, nuh-uh. Shoes are to stay on, sweetie-pie.” You give her Eskimo kisses and she giggles. “Sorry about that.” You say, addressing the Minister. “I would just like to thank you for having us, and for agreeing to marry a same-sex couple. I understand that it’s not easy for a church to accept us, but thank you anyway.”

“My dear, we are an Episcopal church and same-sex couples are now able to marry in _all_ Episcopal churches. It is an honour to have you and the pleasure is all mine. Who is this darling angel?”

“This little tinker is our baby girl, Jane.”

“I’m three.”

“Are you now? Well, isn’t that wonderful. And do you know what’s happening today?” The Minister asks calmly; immediately you get the impression he is exceptional with children.

“Mama and Mommy are getting married. That means they share vows and tell each other that they love each other in front of Jesus.”

“Very astute. Goodness, she’s as bright as a button, isn’t she?”

“Well, the, um … Yes, she gets that from both her Moms.” You say, carefully, not wanting to reveal the sperm donor.

The Minister nods, figuring out what you intended to say.

“Where is Jesus?” Jane suddenly asks. “Will he be in the audience?”

“We’ve tried to tell her about Jesus, but alas we haven’t gotten so far into his life. She hasn’t started Sunday School yet, but then again, Erin and I don’t really attend church; that’s my Mom’s bag. But, I do like it here, and you’re very good with her.”

“Well, you’re welcome any time. We always welcome visitors, and we always welcome back our members, no matter where they end up. I know you and Karen very well; she attended this church with you when you were a youngster, quite a bit. And, between you and me…” he says, suddenly whispering _“I always knew you were gay, and I always accepted it; I just wanted you to figure it out under your own steam.”_

“Thank you, Joshua. I had actually forgotten I attended this church, until you reminded me, just then.”

“Ah, you see, you’ve come back to your roots. One always does, it’s just a matter of time. And as for Jesus, little one, he isn’t here in the flesh, but here’s here in our hearts, so he will always be with you, so yes, he will be watching the ceremony.”

“Did he die?” Jane says, rather bluntly.

“Yes, he did, but it’s okay. I believe he will come again; the Second Coming, it’s called.”

“Oh, okay. That’s sad that he died, but good, that he’s coming back. But how is he coming back Mama?”

“Um, with a bit of faith and lots of, um …”

“Magic.” Joshua finishes. He produces a lovely flower and gives it to Jane.

“Huh. I didn’t know you did magic.”

“Only a few tricks; nothing too over-the-top. A lot of the elderly would think it little more than Black Magic, trickery or the work of Satan.”

Jane, who is mesmerised by the flower, puts it in her red-hair and asks to be put down. You put her on the floor and she runs down the aisle, right to the front, where she clambers on a pew and waits patiently for you to get down there.

“Well, someone’s eager.” You say, keeping an eagle eye on her.

“Yes, indeed. So, what’s the last name to be?”

“Holtzbert. A combination of our last names – Holtzmann and Gilbert.”

“Sounds like a well-thought out choice to me. I cannot wait to join you two in Holy Matrimony.” You shake his hand firmly and nod your head.

As you begin to wander down the aisle, Jane comes bounding up to you and mentions flowers. You wait for Abby’s arrival. When she arrives, she is promptly handed a small basket of flowers for Jane to throw along the aisle. Your Mother sidles down the aisle and sits down as the guests start to arrive. Patty looking as stunning as Abby arrives, and even Kevin is wearing a suit and tie. You exchange a few words with them, before they wander off to their seats. With a nod from Joshua you wander, with your father linking your arm, down to the front of the church, where you stand in anticipation. He kisses your cheek, tells you how wonderful you look and how he is immensely proud of you.

The organ plays a merry little tune, which is Abby’s cue to walk with Jane down the middle of the pews. She begins carefully throwing petals to the deep-red carpet, and everyone ‘Ahhs’ at her.

Once everyone, who had come in whilst your back was turned, is seated, Abby whispers in your ear. “ _I pulled a few strings_.” Abby confesses. “ _I sent out a few emails, and these few are the ones who actually like you and Erin, and incidentally us. I know there’s not a huge number from Kenneth P. Higgins, or Columbia, but I thought you’d appreciate some extra familiar faces_.”

“ _Abby, you’re a troublemaker, but I appreciate it. Thanks honey. Erin will love this.”_

“ _I know she will.”_ Abby says, winking at you.

You turn to Patty and Kevin. “ _Hey, guys, I wanna apologise that nobody is the best man. And Kevin, Patty, I’m sorry you don’t get to be a Godparent, but I’ve known Abby for years, man.”_

“ _Hey, no, it’s cool, I totally respect that_.” Patty says, hugging you.

“ _Yeah, I’d worry that I’m not responsible enough_.” Kevin chuckles.

The three adults take a seat and Abby pulls Jane onto her lap, hugging her closely. You inhale deeply, and slowly exhale your nerves, puffing out your cheeks. You lick your lips, before biting the bottom one. Joshua grins at you and then the organ strikes up the first few bars of ‘The Wedding March’ (nice and traditional).

You stand there as the nerves creep in; the palms of your hands becoming all sweaty.

Erin appears in the doorway, dressed in a slim ivory dress, with a thin, but long veil pinned to the back of her head, just below her extravagantly wrapped bun. She has two thin strands of hair, slightly curled, on either side to frame her face. In her hands, she is carrying a bouquet of purple Peonies. She sees you standing at the front of the church, in a striking charcoal suit and her heart does a little flutter. She links her Father’s arm and slowly wanders down the red carpet, in time with the music. Just before she reaches you, Joshua nods at you and you turn to see your stunning bride. Your hands fly to your mouth, and you cry silently with joy. As Erin approaches you, her Father kisses her cheek and releases her arm, before joining his wife on the front-left pew.

“Come here often?” she asks, to which you cry even harder.

Jane manages to wriggle free from Abby’s grasp, and runs up to you, to give you a hug because you’re crying. The congregation ‘Awws’ and you chuckle. You pick her up and the pair of you kisses her cheeks at the same time. “Mama’s fine, Jane, these are happy tears.” You say. She Eskimo kisses you again and you put her down, where she wanders off to get back on Abby’s lap.

“I am the Reverend Joshua Gayle and I am the presiding minister. I warmly welcome you all to St Paul’s Chapel. Friends, family and loved ones, we are here today to join Dr Jillian Holtzmann and Dr Erin Jane Gilbert in a life of mutual commitment. It is fitting and appropriate that you, the family and friends of Jillian and Erin, be here to witness and to participate in their union. For the ideals, the understanding, and the mutual respect which they bring to their life together had their roots in the love and friendship and guidance you have given them. The union of two people makes us aware of the changes wrought by time. But the new relationship will continue to draw much of its beauty and meaning from the intimate associations of their past. I would like to invite everyone to sit. Erin, Jillian, if you could please join me up here on these two seats?”

You climb up the step to the ‘stage’ and sit down on the seats, a little way off from the second lectern.

The Reverend nods his head. “We will begin with our first reading, given to us by Erin’s Father, Mr William Gilbert.”

Bill stands, and wipes a tear from his face, before wandering over to the lectern. “True marriage is more than simply joining two persons together through the bonds of matrimony. It is also the union of two hearts and the blending of two families. It lives on the love you give each other and never grows old, but also thrives on the joy of each new day. Marriage is, and should be, an expression of love. May you always be able to talk things over, to confide in each other, to laugh with each other, to enjoy life together, and to also share those moments of quiet and peace, when the day is done. May you be blessed with a lifetime of happiness and a home of warmth and understanding.” You and Erin both begin crying and she squeezes your hand, before dabbing at her eyes.

“Thank God for waterproof mascara.” She says, chuckling. The congregation also chuckles.

“Thank you, Mr Gilbert. Our second reading is given by Jillian and Erin’s closest friend Dr Abigail Louise Yates.”

Abby passes Jane to Karen, before gathering her papers and nervously wandering to the lectern Bill used previously. “Thank you, Reverend. Now, I’ve known Erin and Jillian for many, many years; since they were teens, and it is an absolute honour to stand here in front of so many familiar faces, and new faces, and see these two join together. Our second reading is about love.” She clears her throat. “Love should have no other desire but to fulfil itself. But if your love and needs must have desires, let these be your desires: To melt and be like a running brook that sings its melody at night; To know the pain of too much tenderness; To be wounded by your own understanding of love and the compassion that love brings; To wake at dawn, with a winged heart and give thanks for another day of loving; To rest at the noon hour and meditate on love’s ecstasy; To return home at eventide with gratitude and loving embrace; Then to sleep with a vision of the beloved in your heart and a song of love in your dreams.” She turns to you, and blows you each a kiss, before resuming her position in the front row.

“Thank you for that wonderful reading. We will now have a Bible reading, and one final reading, before the vows. This reading is taken from 1 Corinthians, chapter 13, starting at verse 4 and ending at verse 7. ‘Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonour others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil, but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.’ Thanks be to God. Now, we shall hear our final reading. Mrs Karen Holtzmann.”

You Mother hands a now-sleepy Jane to Abby, who promptly curls up and falls asleep. She makes her way to the podium, and like everyone else, places her papers on it. She puts on her reading glasses, and you squeeze Erin’s hands. “Jillian and Erin, remember to treat yourselves and each other with respect, and remind yourselves often of what brought you together. Take responsibility for making the other feel safe, and give the highest priority to the tenderness, gentleness and kindness that your connection deserves. When frustration, difficulty and fear assail your relationship, as they threaten all relationships at some time or another, remember to focus on what is right between you,” her voice breaks, and she takes a moment to compose herself “and not just the part that seems wrong. In this way, you can survive the times when clouds drift across the face of the sun in your lives, remembering that, just because you may lose sight of it for a moment, that does not mean the sun has gone away, forever. If each of you takes responsibility for the quality of your life together and the compassion for the needs of the other, your life together will be marked by abundance and delight.” Your Mother turns to each of you, and smiles, albeit a little teary-eyed, before taking her seat.

“I would like to invite the brides to rejoin me at the front and for everyone to stand. The couple have chosen a mix of their own vows, as well as the more traditional vows. We will start with the more traditional vows, before each lady gives their own. We will start with you, Jillian.”

“Oh shi—yeah, okay.” You say, careful not to swear in the church.

“Do you, Dr Jillian Holtzmann, accept Dr Erin Jane Gilbert as your lifemate and one true love, promising to share in all that life offers and suffers, to be there for her in time of plenty, as well as times of need, to soothe her in times of pain, and to support her in all endeavours, big and small, for as long as you both shall live?”

You nod and sniff hard, before puffing out your cheeks as you exhale. “Yeah, I do. I really, _really_ do.”

“I now turn to you, Erin, and ask you the same question. Do you, Dr Erin Jane Gilbert, accept Dr Jillian Holtzmann as your lifemate and one true love, promising to share in all that life offers and suffers, to be there for her in time of plenty, as well as times of need, to soothe her in times of pain, and to support her in all endeavours, big and small, for as long as you both shall live?”

Erin beams at you. “I do.”

“Thank you. Now, before we continue, the couple would like to share their own vows. Jillian, as you are, as you so put it ‘the man of this relationship’, you shall once again start with your own vow.” You giggle at that remark and Erin shakes her head. There’s a scatter of laughter and applause. 

You pull out a crumpled piece of paper, and clear your throat. You know that what you’re going to say isn’t exactly wedding material, but you know it is more of an inside joke, between the four of you. “Erin. Physics is the study of the movement of bodies and space, and it can unlock the mysteries of the Universe, but it cannot answer the essential question of what is our purpose here and to me, the purpose of life is to love and to love is what you have shown me.” Erin cries at your words, knowing how much that meant to you the very first time you made that speech.

You nod at Joshua, and he turns to Erin. “Erin, your personal vow.”

Now it is Erin’s turn to come over all nervous. Patty hands her a piece of paper, and she grins sheepishly. “Well, looks like nobody memorised their speeches.” She jokes. “Jillian, when you first asked me if I ‘Come here often?’ I was so perplexed by the random question, that I didn’t know what to think. And then you introduced yourself as ‘Holtzmann. Virgo. Avid skier. Gluten-full. And 100% jazzed to meet you.’ Now to me, that was the nerdiest thing anyone could ever say, but it was something in the way you said it, and your voice, which drew me to you. Everything about you –your eyes, your smile, mannerisms, hair, eccentric clothing and attitude drew me to you and I wanted to spend as much time as I could getting to know you. I know at the start, it was a bit up and down, but we got there in the end. I knew, every day coming into work, that we were meant to be together; everything about you, transfixed me and the day you asked me to be your girlfriend was the happiest moment of my life. We fought ghosts together, and saved New York together, and having you by my side gave me a little bit more confidence and reassurance that everything was going to be alright. I love you more and more each day and I couldn’t be happier than standing up here, with you standing in front of me, one step closer to being with you forever, and our perfect little angel, which we created, asleep on Aunty Abbie’s lap. I mean, who knew that we’d start our own little family? There’s no one in the whole world I’d rather spend my life with than you two and I cannot wait to be your wife.”

“Well, it is about time for the moment you’re all here for. I would like to invite Patricia Tolan to join us at the front.” Patty gets up, as she has the rings, and the Reverend places your left hand over Erin’s left hand, before wrapping them an appropriate rainbow-coloured vestment. He opens a Bible, a places it on your hands, before telling Patty to place the wedding band for you in the centre and the diamond wedding ring, which is more extravagant than Erin’s silver ring, with tiny diamonds embedded in the surface.

“Erin, I give you this ring as a symbol of my love. As it encircles your finger, may it remind you always that you are surrounded by my enduring love.”

Erin responds. “I will wear it gladly. Whenever I look at it, I will remember this joyous day and the vows and commitments which we have made.” She has a slightly different speech for the giving of your ring, as you wanted to keep to your unique personalities. “Holtz…er…Jillian, I give you this ring as a symbol of my love for you. Let it be a reminder that I am always by your side and that I will always be a faithful partner to you.”

You smile and respond. “I will forever wear this ring as a sign of my commitment and the desire of my heart.”

The Reverend speaks again. “Wedding rings are made precious by our wearing them. Your rings say that even in your uniqueness you have chosen to be bound together. Let these rings also be a sign that love has substance as well as soul, a present as well as a past, and that, despite its occasional sorrows, love is a circle of happiness, wonder, and delight. May these rings remind you always of the vows you have taken here today. And now, by the power vested in me by the State of New York, I hereby pronounce you as Mrs and Mrs Holtzbert. You may now kiss.”

You share a new kind of kiss – full of passion, zeal, excitement and an overabundance of love. The congregation erupts into cheers and applauses, which startles Jane awake. She looks about her confused, and yet she does not cry.

“Friends and family, to conclude this ceremony, will the designated witnesses please come forward and sign their names to the certificate of marriage?” The witnesses, being both your Mothers, step forwards and the five of you disappear out a side wooden door, into a private room.

* * *

Once you have signed the legal documents, and had them witnessed by your Mothers, you re-enter the chapel and that notice that most of the guests have vacated the venue. You spot the usual faces, and some old faces you’ve not seen in years. Your Mothers sit back down and you and Erin, now officially married, stand at the front of the church, waiting to be officially, and formally, announced by the presiding minister.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, I formally introduce the newlyweds.” You both grin at him and, holding hands, walk down the central aisle to rapturous applause. You do your signature wink and lesbian salute as you pass Abby, Patty and Kevin. And the pair of you keep walking and outside the double doors, to find the rest of your guests, lined up on two sides of the steps.

As you wander down them, they cheer and throw confetti up in the air. A light breeze catches them and they briefly dance upon the wind, before floating in multiple directions, including on Erin’s nose and in her hair.

You greet the guests with another kiss and a lightly-squeezing hug and prepare for photographs with the guests, taken by your old fellow-MIT student, Dave. Several snaps later, he asks you for a family photo. Gathering on the steps, with Erin on your right, you have your Mom by your side, who’s a little shorter than you and your Dad behind her. On Erin’s side she has her Mom, with her Dad behind her. Next to Erin’s Mom, is her brother, sister, half-brother and two cousins. Filling in the backrow are both her Aunties and Uncles and in the front row are Erin’s two nieces, and her 6 year old nephew, who’s currently in the process of picking his nose.

She stoops to speak to him, as Abby hands you Jane, who is now much more awake, and lively since her afternoon nap.

“Jamie, sweetie, please don’t pick your nose. Nobody wants to see that.”

The six year old looks up at her, index finger still firmly wedged in his nose. She raises an eyebrow and he takes it out … dangerously close to sticking it in his mouth, his Mother swoops down, having heard Erin, and promptly wipes it clean.

Erin straightens his little tie, and stands up straight. You have Jane seated on your left hip and she kisses your cheek as the camera flashes. You then hold Jane under her bottom between you and the pair of you kiss both her cheeks, just as the camera takes another photo.

Once the family have dispersed, you turn to the crowd. “Um, can we get the Ghostbusters, and Kevin up here, please?”

Patty, who’s a little reluctant, eventually gets dragged up by Kevin, who stands on your left. Patty stands at the back, given her 6’0 height and Abby stands to Erin’s left. You put your arm around Kevin, still supporting Jane with Erin on your right-hand side and Erin puts her arm around Abby’s waist. A couple of photos later and you’re just about ready to head towards the after party. It is now 3pm and you know you will have to get Jane to sleep in four hours.

You stand and chat to various professors and they congratulate you both on the big day and compliment your outfits.

“Absolutely stunning service, Jillian.” Thomas, a professor of Mathematics at Kenneth P. Higgins says.

“Oh, yes, I couldn’t agree more.” His wife, Sandra, English professor at the same University says.

“And your little one is just the cutest.” Thomas adds.

“Thank you, we named her after Erin’s middle name; she doesn’t use it often, but I’ve always liked it.”

“What about a boys’ name, did you have one of those?”

“Sebastian.” You say together, before giving each other an Eskimo kiss.

“You two are the cutest.”

Dave approaches. “Hey, do you mind if I get some shots of you and your guests?”

“Hey, no, that’s fine. Anyone object?” The professors murmur that they’re happy to be in photos and Dave snaps away.

“Cheers, and by the way, you look gorgeous. I always knew you’d look good in a suit, Jilly.”

“Cheers, Dave. Nice to see you, buddy. When was the last time?”

“16 June, 2003. MIT, Freshman year. Supposed to be studying astrophysics, but we had other ideas. I believe it involved the bleachers, some weed and Honey Jack.”

You chuckle. “Oh, my God, I remember that. My first blunt! Jesus, that takes me back. How high were we, mind? _And_ we went to the lecture stoned.”

He laughs heartily and gently slaps your arm. “You were worse than me.”

“Yeah, well you were a stoner, back then.”

“Yeah, I was.”

“Oh, and by the way, some of the MIT professors are here, Charles, Claire and Mackenzie, so don’t go telling them that; especially Charles, seeing as he was the astrophysics tutor. Oh, and…” you chuckle awkwardly, remembering that you’re talking to Kenneth P. Higgins Institute professors. “This is Thomas and Sandra. Professors at Kenneth P. Higgins. Thomas is a Math professor at KPH and Sandra is an English professor. Kinda forgot about your roles.”

“It’s alright, our lips are sealed. We’ve all been students at one time or another. I mean, I was a student in the 80s and there was a lot of God knows what. It was all sex, drugs and rock and roll, back then. Mostly blow and puff, but that was the thing back then. Incidentally, that’s how Sandy and I met. At a house party, snorting cocaine. Literally love at first site. Haven’t touched the stuff since, but my God, it was a rager back then!”

“Oh, Lordy. Tutors doing coke. Thank God I saw the sensible path!”

“Well, some of us had to.” Dave adds, sighing wistfully.

Erin looks at you, deadpan, and you realise she’s been stood there, holding Jane this whole time. “Holtz, kids are like sponges. She’ll soak up all that information.”

“True, but she won’t remember any of it … will you Janey-baby? No, you won’t.”

She pokes her tongue out at you, and you stand there in mock surprise. Placing your hands on your hips, you sarcastically tell her off. “And what have I said about your tongue, missy? Where does it stay?”

“Inside my mouth.”

“Inside _your_ mouth, that’s right.”

“ _Unless you’re kissing me.”_ Erin whispers in your ear; to which you blush.

“Now, I don’t want to see that tongue again, thank you.”

Jane suddenly looks really sad. “I’m sorry, Mama.”

You pull a oh-my-God-she’s-the-cutest face and plant wet kisses on her cheeks, forehead and nose. “It’s alright, you monkey, I poke my tongue out all the time. See?” And with that, you poke it out at her, and she pokes hers out in response. You rock your head from left to right and do a little dance, tipping your shoulders up and down and she copies you.

“Way to confuse her, babe.” Erin says, deadpan.

You pull a face at her and she boops your snoot.

“Er-bear…”

“Holtzy.”

You poke your tongue out at her, and Jane copies you, before the pair of you giggle at Erin, who’s standing with her mouth agape. “Love you!” you say, cheerily.

“Love you, Mom.” Jane adds.

“Ah, two against one.” You poke your tongue out again, and make non-verbal sounds before jogging away from Erin, still carrying Jane.

“God, she’s such a child.” Erin says, giggling. “But that’s why I love her, because every day with Holtzmann, is an interesting one. Ooh, no, we can’t call her Holtzmann anymore; it’ll have to be Holtzbert.” She stays to chat to the guests and you return, having deposited Jane to Nanny Karen.

“Sorry about that.”

“It’s alright, she’s adorable.”

“I know, right?”

“But I am curious… I know this is a tad sensitive, but it’s always fascinated me…” Thomas lowers his voice. “ _How did you, you know, get to have the baby?”_

_“Oh, that. Quite simple. We actually used a, erm, sperm donor. Some genius professor at Harvard University and, well, yano, Erin’s … Ahem … And, yeah, baby.”_

_“Forgive my intrusion, it’s just I have heard about Sperm Banks and about IVF, and also, there is the possibility of, you know, having … sexual intercourse with a male, but in your case, that’s obviously different.”_

_“Not gonna lie, Erin probably would have screwed a guy if it came to it…”_

_“Holtz!”_ She says, elbowing you in the ribs.

_“What she means to say, that as a bisexual, that would have been an option, but I didn’t want to do that. I more gay now, with Holtz, than I ever was.”_

_“Yes, because weren’t you with Phil, beforehand? Again, pardon my intrusion.”_ Thomas’s wife glares at him.

_“Yes, but between us, he’s an asshole, and he never cared about me. I knew I was interested in women; they fascinate me, well, I am one, so why wouldn’t they? And then, I met Holtz, and basically the first thing that came into my head was ‘Oh shit, now I’m gay’ … and yes, being bi does make you a part of the LGBT Community, but I meant like ‘Oh shit, now I really like women and I want to be with this one’. So, I became gay for Holtz, as it were. Whereas, Holtz, you’ve always been gay, haven’t you?”_

_“Oh, yeah, totally. Came out when I was 10. Been lesbian ever since. That’s a good strong 24 years of knowing I was attracted to girls, both sexually, physically, and for the latter years, intellectually.”_

_“That makes sense, but are you going to explain to Jane, when she’s older, I mean?”_

_“Haven’t really thought about it, have we, babe?”_

Erin looks between you at the professors. “ _No, not really. If she asks, then we’ll explain to her that there is no Daddy, but for now, she’s happy knowing she’s loved, incidentally by two Moms, but that’s the beauty of the 21 st Century – shit like this is, for the most part, accepted, and that’s all that matters; that Jill and I love each other, unconditionally, and we love our mini Holtz, just as deeply.”_

_“Thank you for the explanation, and I’m sorry if you thought I was being insensitive at all.”_

_“I didn’t, did you, Er?”_

_“No, it’s always good to ask questions. And frankly, IVF would have cost us thousands of dollars. I mean, there was no guarantee this would have worked, but we’re tremendously thankful that it did.”_

Thomas returns to his normal voice. “So, any plans for the honeymoon?”

Erin turns to you and you shrug. “This one’s keeping it a secret. She says she’s planned a 10 day getaway, but won’t tell me where. All I know is Jane will be staying with Holtzy’s parents for 3 days, my parents’ for 3 days, and Abby for 4 days.”

You smirk and grin broadly.

“Ooh, the mystery.” Sandra says. You nod and the pair of you excuse yourselves to head back to the hotel ready for the after party.

_“What say we keep Jane with Nanny and consummate this marriage, honey?”_

Erin looks at you and squeezes your hand. “ _I thought we couldn’t do that until the honeymoon?”_

You pout. “ _A quickie? No one will know.”_

Erin smirks at you. _“Unfortunately Holtz, I’m not horny.”_

_“I can make you horny, darling.”_

_“Let’s save it to the honeymoon; we’ve got 10 days to make love and frankly, I can’t wait, plus I’m tired and I want to get a nap in. Curl up with me though, yeah?”_

_“A’riiiight, I suppose that’ll have to do.”_ You say, before stopping her, turning her and kissing her. She giggles, but returns the kiss.

“So, are you gonna tell me where we’re going?” Erin asks, trying to coax it from you. She knows you’re not the _best_ at keeping secrets, but so far, you’re keeping your mouth tightly shut.

“Nope. C’mon, let’s get our monkey back to the hotel with us, if you won’t--”

“Alright! That’s an excellent idea, Holtz.” Erin says loudly, to cover you nearly mentioning sex. _“Etiquette, darling. Nobody needs to know that we shag, just that we’re going to—_ Oh, hey Mom, what’re you doing here, at this precise moment in time?”

“Wondering where you’re sneaking off to…are you going to consummate?”

“Saving that for the honeymoon. Aaand, we’re out. Erin, _honey_ , _baby?_ Jane…” you say widening your eyes; not wanting to talk about sex in front of anyone’s parents.

“Sorry, Holtz is right. We need to collect our daughter, because she’ll need to be fed, washed and put to bed. She’s a little tyke when it comes to the bedroom routine. Much better than she was! Oh, and Mom? Thank you _sooo_ much for the warning about sleepless nights; I don’t think we would have survived without your tips or Beethoven for that matter. Ooh, there’s a thought, Holtz… Play Beethoven for her tonight, see if she sleeps.”

“She’s had a nap though, will she sleep?”

“Hun, she’s 3. They need like 14 hours sleep a night; unlike you and your 14 _minutes_.” She sighs.

“Suffer from insomnia?” Rachel asks.

“Nah, I wish. My brain goes into overdrive during the night. That’s when you’re more likely to find me in the office, with the Chinchillas, working hard, either trying to create a whole new weapon, amending the ones we already have, or trying to conduct some sort of experiment; theoretically of course. I save the actual experimenting to the lab.”

“14 minutes isn’t enough though, sweetheart. When did it start?”

“Um, 2004, ish. When I was at MIT, I was obsessed with learning and proving and disproving many scientific theories, including my own. And then I managed to get _some_ sleep after I graduated and started at KPH; certainly enough to receive my Doctorate. After that, I managed about 3 hours a night, whilst I was an associate professor, and then, finally, I became Dr Jillian Holtzmann, with a PhD under my belt _and_ I was promoted to Senior Professor of Physics, specialising in Nuclear Engineering. And then, during my time at KPH, Abby and I started working together, and we got the idea to become the Ghostbusters… Not a name we actually chose for ourselves – Erin tried to call us the ‘Conductors of the Metaphysical Examination’; news anchors called us the ‘Ghostbusters’ and initially we hated it, but it’s just stuck now. But anyway, back to my story… Abby and I were both science nerds and revelled in the supernatural. I mean I tested my first nuclear weapon when I was a teenager on Friday 13th at Saint Paul’s Cathedral; not this one, the other one, and I accidentally partially blew it up due to complications. But once Abby and I started working together, my sleep pattern dropped back down 3 hours, then 1 hour, then I could only manage half an hour and now, since 14 July 2016, it’s gone right down to 14 minutes a day.”

“That certainly isn’t good for you.” Rachel replies, horrified.

“I’ll be fine. What’s not fine was our stupidly long title. Speaking of long titles, did you ever read Erin’s book? I know you didn’t, um, _believe_ her when she said she saw the neighbour’s ghost at the foot of her bed, but she and Abby did write a highly informative book.”

“No, I can’t say that we have. Sorry, pudding.” Rachel says, lightly touching Erin’s arm. “What’s it called?”

“It’s called ‘ _Ghosts from Our Past: Both Literally and Figuratively: A Study of the Paranormal’_.”

“Blimey, that’s a long title.”

“Tell me about it! You should see the title of their second book! I believe it’s called ‘ _A Glimpse into the Unknown: A Journey into a Portal; Catching Sight of the Other Dimension: Discovering the Undiscoverable: A Curiosity Piqued and Peaked’_. Which I think is a ridiculous title, but Erin and Abby seem to like long titles.”

“I’d rather you didn’t make fun of my work, Holtz.”

“Hey, ‘ey, ‘ey, no, I’m not making fun! Jesus, I support it, I just think you need to think of shorter titles. Like ‘ _Ghosts from Our Past’_ , or ‘ _Unknown Dimensions’_ , or even, here’s a good one ‘ _The Ghostworld’_.”

“Well, when _you_ write a book, you can think of shorter titles.”

“I do have a book, thank you. It’s called ‘ _Nuclear Engineering 101: A Beginner’s Guide’._ It’s been published by Bloomsbury Publication. And it’s ranked #3 in the UK and #1 in the USA. Steven Hawking’s ‘ _A Brief History of Time’_ is #2 over there.”

“Well, shit. I did _not_ know that. Huh. How come you never told me?”

“You never asked, and it never came up in conversation.”

“I learn something new about you every day, baby.” She says, kissing your cheek and squeezing your hand. You excuse yourselves and make your way over to Abby who is in the process of receiving pebbles from Jane.

“Hey lovebirds. I was wondering when you were gonna talk to us.”

“Has she been good?” You ask, nodding towards Jane.

“Yeah, really good. She’s showing me her 6th pebble.”

“Ooh, wow, look at that.” You say sarcastically to Abby. You squat down and give Jane a cuddle. “What’ve you got there Janey? Can Mama see?”

“PEBBLES!” she exclaims and drops two identical pebbles into your hands.

“Oh aren’t they pretty? Right, we’re gonna have to leave them here. We need to get back to the hotel, so we can eat and you can go to bed.”

“I don’t wanna.”

“You might not wanna, but you hafta.” She sulks and looks like she’s about to cry. “C’mon, you’ve been as good as gold all day, don’t spoil it now. If you come with us now, you can have ice cream for your dessert.”

“Mmm, yummy. Bye-bye Ab-by.” She says, emphasising the two syllables of Abby’s name.

“See you in a bit, _Aunty_ Abby.” You say, inclining your head towards Jane.

“Aun-ty Ab-by.” She says in an almost sing-song way.

“Right then, up-a-daisy.” You say, picking Jane up and lifting her high above your head. You hold her there and blow a raspberry on her belly, prompting her to giggle. You then pretend to drop her, before hugging her, and then tipping her upside down.

“Woah, weeee!” she says, giddily. You right her and she asks to go again. “Again, again. Down-up.” She says, which means ‘upside down’. You oblige a second time, and gently swing her from left to right. She giggles again and then you put her right-side up, so you can give her a cuddle and a kiss.

Erin calls the chauffeur of the Rolls Royce and asks to be taken back to the hotel. You start saying your farewells and explaining why you need to dash off, but that you’d be at the party a bit after 7 o’clock, once Jane is fast asleep. The Rolls pulls up and the three of you wave and say goodbye to the guests, before getting in and being whisked away back to the Four Seasons.


	32. Chapter 30

Once you’re in your room, you collapse onto the bed, tiredness suddenly washing over you. You leave Erin to run a lukewarm bath for Jane, saying you’ll be in there in a minute to help wash her, but soon enough, you’re fast asleep on the bed, still in your full suit. Seeing you, Erin takes off your shoes, and in your half-asleep state, you manage to take off your suit jacket, waistcoat and tie, before promptly flopping down on to the bed and drifting off again. Erin leaves you and carries Jane into the bathroom, where she proceeds to give her a bath and brush her teeth for her, before brushing her hair ready for bed.

Once out of the bath, Jane whispers her goodnights to you and she’s put down in the cot; which the hotel provided for you, where Erin reads to her ‘The Gruffalo’. As soon as Jane is sleeping soundly, Erin curls up on the bed next to you and soon enough, she’s fast asleep too.

After what seems like no time at all, the vibrations from Erin’s phone stirs you, and taking a sharp intake of air through your nose, you roll over, nearly falling out of the bed in the process, and answer it wearily.

“Hello?”

“ _Holtz, it’s 8pm, where are you guys?”_ Abby’s voice crackles over the turned-up caller volume.

“Oh, sorry, we fell asleep. We’ve only just got Jane to sleep. I don’t think we can leave her … Or one of us can, but that’s not the point.”

_“Put her in the pram, I’m sure she’ll be fine.”_

“Try convincing Erin of that.”

“Try convincing me of what?” Erin mutters, still half-asleep.

“It’s 8pm babe, everyone’s waiting for us. Abby’s suggesting to put Jane in the pram and bring her down.”

Erin sighs and rubs her eyes, sitting up as she does so. “We’ll have to eat a bit later, get everyone else fed then get Nanny or Grammy up here to watch her, whilst we go eat and have our first dance as a married couple.”

“We could, but won’t they want to see that?”

“Oh, true. We’ll just have to put her in the pram then.”

You swing your legs off the bed, and sigh, before wandering over to the wardrobe and getting out, and unfolding, the pram. You leave it by the wardrobe and go back to the phone. “Give us five, would ya, Ab?”

“ _Sure thing, bud. I’ll make sure everyone starts eating shall I?”_

“Nah, we’re coming down, so just let the caterers know.”

 _“Alright, speak soon Holtzbert.”_ She hangs up.

You make a weird noise. “I’m not used to being called _Holtzbert_ yet, I’ve been _Holtzmann_ for decades. It started in engineering School. Most of the other students were shy guys. I think they called me _Holtzmann_ , so I’d seem less like a girl.”

“I know, you said years ago, when we first started dating..”

“Well, I’m just reiterating.”

“I know you are, but, well, you’ll just have to get used to it, won’t you, sweetheart?” Erin asks rhetorically.

You pull a face and help get Jane into the pram; she is still sleeping soundly and you sigh in relief. “There’ll be hell to pay if she wakes up. She hasn’t made a peep all day, but I suspect we’re going to have a few tears.”

“We, we’re taking her from her nice, cosy cot, to some loud, unforgiving restaurant, just so we can eat. We’re so _mean_.” She jokes, putting on a silly voice.

* * *

Jane is still sleeping as you gorge yourselves on the buffet. It isn’t until the speeches begin that she wakes up, bleary eyed and confused about not being in the room. Her pram is just a little way behind the top table and you hear her griping. Your Dad stands to speak, but you place a hand on the crook of his arm, to stop him, whilst you see to Jane.

He leans over and you whisper into his ear. _“Sorry Dad, I think she’s about to cry. Let me get her out and give her something to eat and drink.”_

Patting your hand with the other, he also whispers in reply. _“That’s alright, honey. Do you want me to wait?”_

_“No, no, carry on. I’m just letting you know what I’m doing.”_

_“Okay.”_ He resumes his normal speaking voice, and stands to his feet, picking up his champagne flute as he does so. “Ladies and Gentlemen. I would just like to thank you all for being here, on this momentous occasion. I am Greg Holtzmann, Jillian’s Father and I’m afraid I don’t have much of a speech prepared.”

You get Jane out of the pram, tell Erin what you’re doing and slip out, virtually unnoticed to find something suitable for Jane at the buffet cart. You notice it’s a lot of salty foods left and so you go in search of Anita, or one of the other staff to help you find something Jane is likely to eat – you’ve discovered, that she is a somewhat fussy eater. As you disappear, your Dad calls your name; you realise you hadn’t heard his speech at all, until your name cuts through the silence.

“Jillian…”

You stop and turn to find everyone is staring at you. You raise both eyebrows and widen your eyes. “Hi.”

“As I was saying, I remember the soccer championships. I was late for it, and her Mother had gone with her. I was so immensely proud when she scored the winning goal, but I knew I had let her down. My meeting overran, I tried to leave early, but as I was pitching I couldn’t leave my presentation halfway through, so I kept going, and only managed to catch the last five minutes. I saw you, Jill-bug, looking for me in the crowds, but you couldn’t find me. Your Mother had disappeared to speak to the coach, and so you were left with a trophy in one hand and a soccer ball at your feet. You were so angry, and you booted the ball so hard, with your right foot – your strong one – that you ripped a hole through the net. And in that moment, I realised that I was not the Father I was supposed to be, but that no matter what happened, or happens, I will always love you and today, seeing your face light up and your eyes shine with deep love, took me back to when you were 8 years old, when you scored that winning goal; and I have never been prouder in all my life, until today. I may not be the best Father in the world, but you turned out better than I ever anticipated; better than me, and better than your Mother. And, you’re a wonderful Mother yourself; you both are wonderful Moms. So, Ladies and Gentlemen, please raise your glass to the brides and Moms, Jillian and Erin.”

The guests raise their glasses and drink their champagne. You feel a lump in your throat, and catch sight of Erin, who simply tilts her head and winks at you. You smile at her, lick your lips and speak to Jane.

“So how’s about you and Mama go and find you something to eat?” Jane snivels through hunger, tiredness and seeing you sad. “What’s up chicken?”

“You’re sad, Mama.”

“No, honey, these are happy tears.”

“Okay…” she pauses, thinking of what she wants to eat. “Nuggets.” She says, happily.

You chuckle. “You want nuggets? Of course you do…” you Eskimo kiss her again. “Alright, I’ll go see if there are any chicken nuggets, or turkey dinosaurs.” You disappear through the double doors and wander about, trying to locate a member of hotel staff. “Oh, hello.” You say as a man in a black-and-white uniform and name badge appears around the corner. “I was wondering, do you have any chicken nuggets, or turkey dinosaurs, for a little mouth?” you ask, gently lifting Jane about an inch or two into the air.

The man pauses and rubs his chin. “I’m sure that can be arrange, madam.”

“Brilliant, thanks. Do you want fries, baby?” Jane nods. “Chicken nuggets and fries, if you’re able to.”

“Of course, anything else?”

“Um, yeah, got any juice … what kind do you want, Jane?”

“Apple.”

“And apple juice.”

“Do you require a sippy cup or an open cup?”

“I think an open cup and a straw will be fine…” you pause to read the name badge. “Thank you, Gareth.”

“No problem. I’ll get on that right away, and I’ll bring it through to you. Congrats, by the way.” He says, nodding at the suit and peony in your lapel buttonhole.

“Cheers, buddy. I’m top table, can’t miss me.”

“Right you are. I shan’t be too long.” He smiles and disappears the way he came.

“Right then, Janey poo, let’s get back to Mom, and our guests.” She nuzzles into you and yawns. “Uh-uh, you can’t go to sleep before your dinner, sweetpea.”

“No, I awake.”

“Attagirl.” You say, breathing in deeply, your breath wobbling from the alcohol. You carry her back inside and wander back to the long table at the back of the room, to hear your Mother giving some long-ass speech; similar to that of your Dad’s, but she’s mostly talking about herself, and downplaying your achievements. You can tell people are looking rather uncomfortable in their seats.

“Ooh, Jillian, you’re back.” She slurs. Evidently she has had one too many wines, as much as she said she wouldn’t. You reach Erin and put Jane back in her pram.

“Mom, stop. You promised you wouldn’t do this.” You hiss, as your blood pressure and anger rises. You bite your tongue and then notice your Father trying to pull the microphone off her. “ _Mom.”_ You growl. There’s the squeal of feedback as Greg rips the mic out of Karen’s grip and she rounds on him. Just before she can have a pop at him, Bill stands in between them.

“ _I think that’s enough. You need to calm it down. You’re making a spectacle of yourself.”_ He whispers, through gritted teeth.

You whisper to Erin to cover Jane’s eyes, and with one fell swoop, you bitch-slap your Mom, stupidly hard, across the face, leaving a visible red handprint and your hand stinging with the contact. The anger which has collected over the years, has finally got too much for you and you finally take your frustration out on her. You wanted to punch her, but the last time you punched someone, you knocked them out, and that would be nothing short of embarrassing. You stand there, teeth gritted, shaking with anger and adrenaline. Your Mother, completely stunned, puts a hand to her face and sits back down. The guests collectively hold their breath as you slam your fist into the table and storm out in a violent rage. This is the first time anyone has even seen you so angry, and so everyone is just as stunned as your Mother. Even Erin chooses not to pursue you.

You pass Gareth with a plate of food, but he sees the anger etched onto your face, and quietly slips by you. As you broaden your steps, you shove the front door, to discover it is a pull door. You wrench it open and wander through the carpark, at the back of the hotel, blowing air angrily through your nostrils. You pass your Mom’s car, and punch the wing mirrors so they get pushed forwards; luckily you don’t break the glass. You keep on striding off, still in complete anger, blind to where you’re going, fuelled by anger, hatred, discontent and discomfort. As you keep walking, it suddenly dawns on you that you have made it onto the adjoining golf course, and there is a game in progress. You snap back to reality and dash off the course, before wandering alongside a stream, to a hand-carved bench, made from an old tree trunk. You sit on it heavily, and throw off your jacket, and waistcoat in a huff. You loosen your bowtie, so it hangs around your neck and roughly unbutton the first three buttons of your shirt, before you lean back into the cold wood, tipping your head over the back of the bench. You stare at the canopy above you and listen to the bubbling of the brook and the birds in the trees, breathing deeply to dissipate your fury.

20 minutes later and Abby is the first to arrive. She sits beside you, in silence, and joins you in looking at the leafy canopy above you. “That was some slap, Holtz.” She says, finally breaking the silence. You sigh and look at your palm – it’s still red and your fingertips are throbbing.

“Yeah, well, she, she was being a, a …” you struggle finding a new word to describe her, and end up re-using the word you hate so much “…she was being a cunt.” You breathe in sharply and exhale deeply.

“Woah, Holtzmann. Don’t let me hear you say that word again. I _really_ hate it.”

“Yeah, me too, but I had nothing else to describe her. She’s as volatile as Trinitrotoluene, or Triacetone Triperoxide, or Trinitrohexahydrotriazine, or Pentaerythritol Tetranitrate, or Aziroazide Azide, or, or…”

“Holtz, Holtz, yo Holtzmann. Stop it, I get it. She’s basically TNT, and variations thereof.”

“Yeah. Sorry, by the way. I shouldn’t have said the ‘C’ word.”

“It’s fine, just don’t do it around me again.”

“How’s about I just don’t ever say it ever again?”

“Even better. How’s the hand?”

“Still tingling, but better. Man, you should see her car.”

“Oh, my God, have you keyed it?”

“No, but that’s an _excellent_ idea!”

“Holtzmann, no.” Abby says, anxiously as you rise to your feet. She grabs your arm and pulls sharply downwards, making you fall onto her lap. You sit there, awkwardly positioned, and snuggle into Abby. You thank her for being there and keeping you sane and begin to apologise for past occurrences.

“Okay, lemme just stop you there.” She says, pushing you off her. “It wouldn’t have worked out between us anyway. I would have ended up mothering you, instead of being your partner, and it wouldn’t have been fair on either of us. Plus, I’m older than you, and you’ve matured a lot slower than the rest of us. Erin has the grace to Mother you, stand up to you, challenge you, push you, boss you around, listen to you, enlighten you and love you. I’m more graceless than she is, and you drive me barmy, sometimes. I love you, I really do, Holtz, but you made the best decision ever to get with, and now marry, Erin. Stop pouting, hun, I’m not gonna kiss you, if that’s what you’re thinking. It’s your wedding day, and the chances are, Erin will come around the corner and catch us. So, no. I’m going back to the party and you should think about joining us soon.” You sigh, and fold your arms across your chest, watching Abby get to her feet. She gives you a meaningful kiss on the cheek and then crosses the field in a hurry, leaving you alone once more. You turn around and watch her leave, before sitting for a bit longer. Grumbling to yourself about your Mother, you throw on your waistcoat, but untuck your shirt. Laying your jacket over the crook of your arm, you begin to head inside. The jacket slips down, and so you hold it in your right hand and thrust your left hand into your trouser pocket.

As you reach your Mom’s car, you straighten both wing mirrors before slinking in through the hotel doors. You wander through the reception and notice Gareth lurking by the vending machines. You approach him and clear your throat, loudly, to alert him to your presence. “Hey, I just wanna apologise for storming past you, but thanks for sorting the food.”

“Hey, it’s no problem. Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, just my Mom being … well, my Mom.”

“Ah, okay. Yeah, my Mom’s the same. She doesn’t like the fact that I’m gay. It’s not even a religious thing, she’s just so backwards.”

“Heh. That’s my Mom; except she says it’s cos we’re Christians.”

“That sucks … Oh, no, not the Christian part, the not accepting you for being gay, cos Jesus said to ‘love thy neighbour’ … that part.”

“I knew what you meant. Anyway, I’d better go face the music. This has been nothing short of a disaster with my Mom.”

Gareth reaches out, to pat your shoulder and smiles at you, trying to be comforting. You thank him and head inside the restaurant.

You enter the room, looking no less than dishevelled and all eyes are on you as the doors _bang_ behind you. You hang your head in shame, and carefully wander to your seat next to Erin.

 _“What in God’s name was that all about?”_ She hisses.

_“I know, I’m sorry, I, I just lost it. I didn’t mean to make you look like a fool.”_

_“Make me look like a fool? Honey, you made yourself look like the biggest fool, ever. I get why you lost your temper, but was there really any need to slap her?”_

_“Really?! You’re mad at me for slapping my Mom, but not at her slagging me off, as per usual?!”_

_“Of course I’m mad at her, I just think you could have handled it better.”_

_“Yes, of course, in hindsight I could have handled it better, but I did what was necessary. Please don’t be angry with me. I know, that was a dick move...”_

_“Holtzmann! Jane. She’ll pick that up.”_

_“Sorry. I know that was an idiot move, but she left me with little options. As I said to Abby, she’s as volatile as TNT. I don’t want her here anymore, babe, I am sick and tired of her attitude. She’s drunk, she’s a snake, I can’t be bothered with it anymore. Can we please just ask her to leave?”_

_“Your Dad’s already on it.”_

_“What? Really?”_

_“Yes, really.”_

_“Oh, okay then. Do I need to apologise to everyone?”_

_“No, just let it go. Come on, let’s get the dancing started.”_

_“Okay, yeah, good idea.”_

_10 minutes later_

As you’re tearing up the dance floor to the clean version of _‘Party Up (Up In Here)_ ’ by DMX, the DJ, a chubby gentleman wearing a Hawaiian shirt and jeans, switches to a slightly slower song. You instantly know it from the opening bars, and before long, you’re dragging Abby and Patty out on to the dancefloor. With a beer in one hand, and Erin’s hand in the other, you’re dancing and singing along to none other than DeBarge’s ‘ _Rhythm of the Night’._ Abby and Patty dance beside you and Erin and the four of you are step-clapping and scooping your heads in time to the music. You hand your beer to Kevin and hold hands with Erin and Patty, thus creating a circle with the four of you.

There is a momentary pause, where you all collapse, exhausted in the chairs at the edge of the dancefloor. Your waistcoat and bowtie are fully off and slung over the back of a chair, one of your brothers is sat on.

“Still living up to your Class President title, I see.” He says, punching you in the arm.

“Meaning?” You ask, breathing heavily.

“You’re still the cock of the walk; ruling the roost.”

“Always, Daniel, always. Don’t forget, being homeschooled helped a lot.”

“Yeah, but weren’t you in school?”

“Yeah, from like 12, when I started blowing stuff up. 11 years I was homeschooled. And I owned all of you.” He goes to ruffle your hair. “Ey! No, not the locks. Oi, gerroff!”

Robert, your other brother comes to perch on Daniel’s lap. “Whatchu guys talking about?”

“The start of my in-School education.”

“11 years after being homeschooled, and being Cocky McCockinson.” He smirks at you, and you click your tongue. Within minutes, you’re surrounded by Ethan, Sebastian and Alexander. They all pull up chairs, in front of you, making a horseshoe. Robert gets up to plonk another chair in the gap between you and Daniel.

“Whooo are yooou?” Erin asks, appearing on your right-hand side. Your hand slides around her butt and you hold her in place. She sort of sits on your shoulder, before you pat your lap and she tucks her dress under before carefully sitting on you.

“Ah, what a ding-a-ling. Okay, I’ll go round the circle. Starting on my left, we have Robert, Daniel, Sebastian, Alexander, and to your right is Ethan, who is the youngest, and also our half-brother. These are my older brothers. I was the runt of the family, the only girl, but I’m the strongest, the brightest, the cleverest and the only one with Asperger’s. Rob has an IQ of 132, meaning he has a very superior intelligence and he is a lawyer. Daniel, IQ of 112, superior intelligence; suffers from BPD, but is an exceptional bank manager. Sebastian, um, average IQ at 108, is bipolar and has anxiety and, what else, buddy… Oh, yeah, he’s got severe OCD for washing his hands. He works in retail. Alexander, Genius IQ at, um, what are you again?”

“152. Thank you very much.”

“Yeah, Alex has an IQ of 152 and is basically a genius, and he’s is working towards his Doctorate in psychology. So far, he is a therapist.”

“Basically.”

“And then there’s me, and y’all know what my IQ is. Well, the girls do, at least.”

“I bet it’s all bullshit.” Sebastian says, laughing.

“Says the guy with the average Intelligence Quotient.”

“Yo, Jillian, what’s your IQ. You’ve managed to withhold that information for about 20 years, claiming that you were a genius. I mean, you’ve got your PhD now, right?”

“Really guys? Have y’all been living under a rock?”

Erin rolls her eyes as you launch into your titles, bouncing your leg as you do so. “Right, fellas, I’m _Doctor_ Jillian Holtzmann, PhD in Physics; more specifically, Particle Physics, with a specialty in Nuclear Engineering. I have an IQ of 163 and I nearly got hired by CERN. I went to MIT and became a professor at the Kenneth P. Higgins Institute of Science. I am one fifth of the Ghostbusters, and I invented every single weapon which we use. From the machinery and weaponry on top of our Ectomobile, to the Proton Packs, the Proton Grenades, the Ghost Trap, the Ghost Chipper, and the Proton Glove, as well as all the various settings incorporated within the Proton Packs. I’m a freakin’ genius, and without me, there would be no Ghostbusters. I am the first to create the weapons and the first to test the stuff. Except, once, when I gave the untested and highly unstable Proton Pack Mark I to Erin, because she has the longest arms.”

“So you nearly killed your wife?”

You grin sheepishly. “Yup. She nearly died twice for us, but it’s okay, cos she didn’t. Oh, and you wanna know what else? Despite my Asperger’s, and my untested ADHD, I’m a Mother, a great friend, and excellent lover…” you kiss Erin’s cheek “…and I’m smarter than you all.”

“Not combined.” Sebastian says, slapping his thighs enthusiastically.

“Oh, Christ. Yeah, well the 5 of you combined will be more intelligent than me.”

“Hey, what about me?” Ethan says, having been left out.

“Oh, shoot, buddy. Okay, this is Ethan he’s um, what are you?”

“20 tomorrow.”

“Ooh, look at that. Birthday boy. Heh! Let’s get you drunk.”

“Babe, 21 in the States.” Erin announces.

You pull her head around to you and kiss her deeply. “Babe, private function.”

“Guys, I’m already drunk. And my IQ is 108 too. I also have social anxiety; I’ve been drunk since 11am.”

“Holy sh—uhh, Shania Twain!” you say, being careful not to swear.

“Also, Jillian, you aren’t the only one with Asperger’s. I have it too; and dyslexia.” Ethan slurs.

“Well, whaddaya know?”

“Two spazzes in the Holtzmann family.”

“Hey, I’m _not_ a spaz, and neither are you. We’re just wired differently.” Ethan pouts at you. “Christ, Seb, get him another beer. I can’t be dealing with a 19 year old crying on top of our Mother and my 3 year old.” Sebastian nods and hands him his Carlsberg.

Daniel leans over Robert and slaps the side of your thigh. “Great bitch-slap on Mom!”

“Oh, my God, I’ve never hit her before.”

“Both Robert and I have, but she deserved it. She gave you nothing but hell. That’s why I’ve been living in secret all this time.”

“Whaaat?!”

 _“Oh, yeah, I’m gay too.”_ Daniel whispers. Everyone’s jaws drop.

“ _Uh, since when, bro?”_

_“Since I was 19. And now, at 40, I’m living with my fifth boyfriend; him and I are so peachy. His name is Mark, I actually brought him along, but I’ve been introducing him as my colleague; I mean, that is how we met, but I didn’t want the drama. You’ve always been a bit, ‘out there’ and unapologetic and when you came out, I was kicking myself because I wasn’t as brave. Plus, I thought you were stupid coming out to Mom when you did.”_

_“How else was I gonna come out? Should I have waited until I was at Columbia University, well before MIT and gone ‘Hey ma, I’m a lesbian. Oh and you can’t do jackshit about it cos I’m at University’ I didn’t think about doing that to be honest. I legit made myself ill worrying over what she was gonna say.”_

_“I’m surprised you didn’t lose a couple of brain cells over the years.”_

_“I probably have, the amount of times the NIV Bible hit my temple.”_

_“Anyway, no one else knows, except you 6, so keep it on the DL, won’t ya?”_

_“Course Danny boy. Course I will.”_ The others nod and mutter in agreement; even Erin.

“Hey Erin.” Alexander calls, before licking his lips and loosening his tie. “Have you tried giving Jillian some Adderall, or some other name-brand, like Ritalin? Or have you tried roofies?”

Patty and Abby join you all, just as Alex finishes his question. Patty, Abby and Erin look between each other, before turning their attention to you. You smile sheepishly and shrug.

“Yeah, we tried Adderall, man. Holtzy put them in a Pez dispenser and popped an entire packet like candy; however, it didn’t slow her down none.”

“A _whole_ packet?”

“Yeah, like one of them big ones too. 20 tablets gone in two minutes.”

“Woah, it’s a wonder she survived.”

“It’s Holtzy. She survives a lot of shit.”

“Have you tried CBD oil?”

“Yeah, we’re not giving her weed. The last time Holtz smoked weed, other than today with your Mom, she started hallucinating that there were 40 grey aliens in the lab, trying to bat a knocker. She promptly passed out on the floor.” Erin quips.

“Honey, that was a $20 bag in brownies, which Quentin made. The last time I smoked weed, other than today, was with you, in our apartment, like 4 years ago. And, besides, baby, the delta-9-tetrahydrocannabinol; the THC, is what makes one high. The cannabinol, or the CBD, is psychoactive, but not intoxicating like the THC. CBD cannot, in face, activate the CB1 receptor, which THC is so prone to doing. However, when THC and CBD work in tandem, the user tends to feel more mellow and have a much lower chance of experiencing paranoia, compared when the cannabinol is absent; I hallucinated, because the particular strain that Quentin gave clearly had more of the tetrahydrocannabinol than the cannabinol.”

“Dang, Jill, you sure know a _lot_ about cannabis.” Says Alex, mouth agape.

“I Google.” You say, nonchalantly.

“Oh.” He says, looking slightly sad.

You continue talking for a few minutes more, until gentle guitar floats through the speakers beside the DJ. “Ladies and Gentlemen, I’d like to call upon the brides for their first dance.

 _‘The first tiiiime … ever I saaaw your face … I thought the suuuuun roooose in your eeeeyyeeees … And the moooon and the stars … were the kiiiiiss yoooou gaaaaave …’_ The gentle, melodic voice of Roberta Flack fills the room and the pair of you get to your feet and make your way to the wooden floor.

Erin places her left hand on your shoulder and you hold her right hand with your left, holding the small of her back with your right hand. As the song continues, you lead her into a smooth waltz and it is evident that the pair of you have been taking lessons prior to this day. Your hand slides up her back and holds Erin’s left shoulder blade, pulling her in closer to you. The pair of you glide across the dancefloor, and every now and again, you spin Erin outwards, holding her at arm’s length, before spinning her into you; smoothly, effortlessly and like something you’d see on _Dancing with the Stars_ or _Strictly Come Dancing._

Just as the song comes to an end, you tip her over your right leg, just as you did in the lab and you kiss her passionately, still holding her firmly in place. You gracefully pull her up straight and Abby covers Jane’s eyes as the pair of you tongue-kiss in the middle of the dancefloor.

“Someone throw some water on this fire, cos it is scorching!” the DJ exclaims, trying to be funny. You nibble Erin’s lower lip and you feel her pressing her pelvis into you. You know what she’s after.

 _“Later, baby. I know you want it now, but we gotta save it for the honeymoon.”_ You whisper as she nuzzles her head. _“I’m so hard for you right now, Erin Holtzbert, but we can’t. Mom and Dad have gone home and I think your parents slipped out to go to bed. Plus, we need to get our little one to bed, it’s way past the time she needed to be asleep.”_

_“I know, I know. Can we trade rooms with Abby or Patty?”_

_“Oh, honey, I wish we could, but if we jizz on their sheets, they’ll kill us.”_

_“Oh, God, you’re right. But, Holtzmann?”_

_“Yea, sugar.”_

_“I’m so fucking horny.”_ Erin whispers, breathing into your ear as she does so. This triggers you and now you’re just as horny.

_“We’re gonna have to do something. This lady boner is killing me, Er-bear.”_

_“Yeah, I know, I can feel it.”_ She says, before winking at you and letting you go. Erin announces to the room that you have to put Jane back to sleep and the three of you disappear upstairs.


	33. Chapter 31

For the first time in years, you get a decent 5 hours’ sleep. You wake up feeling more refreshed than you’ve ever felt. The sun is low in the sky and today is the day that you’re going to go on your honeymoon. You still haven’t disclosed the location, but that’s for the fun of it.

You roll out of bed and do a full-body stretch before compiling a list of everything you will need for the ten days away – you’ve added cold weather as well as warm weather clothes, and you’re in the process of writing ‘waterproofs’ when Erin stirs. You fold the paper, and put in beside your wallet, before jumping in the shower. You start humming a random tune, before it turns into a Disney song, as you wash your hair. Erin decides to interrupt your one-woman show, and joins you in the shower. Her hands wander over your naked body and soon she’s kissing you eagerly; clearly still in the mood from last night. You try and stop her, as you’re needing to get going, and get back to your apartment before you catch your flight, but you can’t resist her kisses or her wandering hands. Turning the shower down a couple of notches, a shiver runs down your spine, but this doesn’t stop her impassioned fondling.

After a few more kisses, Erin’s hand runs down your thighs, and between them, you hold in a gasp and lean into her as she gets to work. Passion and a hunger for your body consumes her and she’s working faster than usual. You claw at her back and try so hard to remain quiet, with your daughter sleeping in the next room. You hold in a moan, and it comes out as a snort, much to Erin’s amusement. It doesn’t take you long to reach climax and you lean into her once more, as your legs shake and you cum on her fingers. Your body shudders and you nearly collapse in the shower, but she holds you steadfast and kisses you again.

You try to speak, but find no words are formulating, and so you simply bite your lower lip and continue to wash yourself. As you are about to see to Erin, she pushes open the shower door and you out of the cubicle. She shakes her head and you’re standing there on the shower mat, naked and wet from the shower and still turned on. You look at her with puppy dog eyes and she grins wildly at you, before tilting her head under the stream, letting the warm water flow over her red locks and her pink face. You sigh, put your towel robe on, scoop your hair into a hair towel and disappear into the bedroom. As the sun begins to rise, you check the temperature for the day at your vacation destination, and decide that, as it’s going to be 22°C, it’s appropriate weather for shorts. You make a mental note to grab as many shorts as you can from the apartment.

You throw on a mismatch pair of underwear, before getting into your dark-green, blue and red striped leggings, light-grey graphic tee, with neon print and dark-grey waistcoat. Normally, you have your silk Hugh Hefner-style burgundy dressing gown over the top of this combo, but alas you’ve left it in the apartment. Sitting on the bed, you first pull on a red ankle sock, followed by a green ankle sock to match the stripes on your leggings. You’re about to dry your hair, when Jane wakes up. You give her a cuddle, wet hair tousled and messy, before Erin comes out in her towel robe and offers to wash Jane whilst you dry and style your hair, knowing it takes you longer to sort than the two of them combined. You nod and being blow-drying your hair.

* * *

As the taxi cab drops the three of you and your suitcases off outside the apartment, you pay the driver, before unbuckling Jane and lifting her on to your hip. You’ve got quite adept at carrying her on your hip, even though Erin’s are wider and stronger than your smaller and more delicate hips. Thankfully, they’re not massively bony; otherwise you’re sure that there would be one too many complaints from your daughter.

Once inside, and in the elevator, you fumble around for your keys, but can’t quite grab them. As you keep them in the same pocket, Erin knows where to dig and pulls them out ready. The elevator _dings_ and you step out into the corridor, smelling of bleach and fresh paint. You cannot work out who or why they’ve been used, but you wrinkle your nose and drag your suitcase behind you, with Erin and hers in front.

She unlocks the door and pushes it open with her foot, before you drag the suitcase to the side of you, hook the door with your left foot and push it closed. The Yale lock _clicks_ as the door makes contact and you exhale loudly. Jane pulls a face at you and you put her down to go for a wander. Cracking your knuckles, neck and spine, you disappear up to your office to feed the chinchillas and leave Erin to unpack.

You’re gone for a full 10 minutes, before you hear the kettle being boiled and Erin clattering about in the kitchen. Her phone rings and she stops to answer it.

“Hey Mom … Uh huh … No, of course not … Yes, that’s understandable … Alright, yeah, I’ll let her know … Okay, well tell him I said hi … Yes, alright … Okay, bye now.” She hangs up and calls up to you. “Slight change of plans. My brother’s in town and he’s staying with my parents, so they can’t look after Jane because he wants to take them out every day. He’s not the best with kids and they don’t want to put him in that situation.”

“It’s alright, Aunty Abby and Aunty Patty can look after her. I’m sure she’ll have a whale of a time. I’ll come down now. Peppermint tea, please, sweets.” You begin descending the ladder. “And whilst you do that…” you say, leaning out from the ladder to kiss her … you’re too high up, so you come down another rung … you kiss her and grin into her mouth … “I’ll start packing for our honeymoon.”

“Still not gonna tell me where then?”

“Nope. It’s a surprise.”

“You know you annoy me, sometimes.”  
“I know. I’m your significant annoyance.”

“And my annoying wife.”

You poke your tongue out at her. “Your specifically significant annoying wife. Ooh, _wife._ Wife… good word … wife … ooh, that feels good … wiiiiife. Erin my _wife._ My wife, Erin. _Wifey._ ” You grin at her, jump down the last two rungs, slap her ass and dive into the bedroom.

Throwing your now-empty suitcase on the bed, you make a mental note to thank Erin for unpacking it. You grab your list from your wallet and read it to yourself. Opening various drawers you throw in board shorts, Hollister swim shorts, Nike soccer shorts and knee-length shorts made of joggers material. You cross them off your list and throw in 11 pairs of boxers (10 days and a spare) as well as 11 pairs of socks. You throw in 4 pairs of sports bras (why you have that many is anyone’s guess) and then throw in 4 pairs of actual bras. Crossing them off the list, you turn to your list and specifically _11x tops of any kind._ You grab your _One of the Boys_ muscle-tee, a Hollister vest, your wife-beater tank and several graphic tees. Slowly you go through the list and tick everything off; including sensible shoes, sneakers, flip flops and waterproof gear. You struggle to do up the zip and call upon Erin for assistance.

She arrives, tuts and shakes her head. “First of all, your packing skills are the _worst._ How many times have I told you to _roll_ your clothes, Holtz? It saves on loads of space and they’re less likely to be creased. You could sort them by outfit, but that’ll stretch your socks and I know how you hate stretching your socks.” She pulls everything out and begins to roll your t-shirts jumpers, shorts, hoodies, trousers and waterproof jacket. The only thing she doesn’t attack are your underwear and socks. You grin at her sheepishly and start packing your toiletries in your wash bag. Once every item is neatly packed and all crossed off the list, she zips it up with ease, steals the paper and packs her own clothes in conjunction to your list.

Once her suitcase is packed, you speed dial Abby and begin pacing the bedroom, before wandering out to pace the living room. “Hey Ab. We’re all good to go, are you able to come around soon, or do you need more time?”

“ _Oh, no, I’ve been up for hours. It’s not like I’ve been waiting for the phone call, but I’ve been waiting for the phone call.”_

“Okay, well Eri and I are ready, she’s just packing my North Face backpack for Jane.

“ _You mean the backpack, which is like never full?”_

“Yup, that’s the one. It will be full by the time Erin has finished with it!” you add, chuckling.

“Right, that’s Jane done. There’s plenty of clothes, books and toys to keep her occupied. I’ve made a list of things she can, and can’t have, and what she will and won’t eat and my parent’s number, just in case.”

“Sweetie, Abby will be fine. She’s looked after me for years.”

“True, but you’re not 3. And I don’t know if she’s looked after a toddler before…”

_“Yup, looked after my niece and nephew and they’re 3 and 5, so we’re all good. Just chill, Erin, Patty and I have got this.”_

“Okay, thanks. Right, are we going? Is Abby coming here or are we dropping her off on the way to the airport?”

“Take the Cam to Abby’s, with Jane, then take a cab to the airport. I’d rather leave your car with Abby than at JFK International.”

“The Cam?”

“Camaro. Shorten its name. Like Ecto is short for Ectomobile. Although, it’s actually a Caddy.”

“Why didn’t you just call it the Camaro?”

“Cos Cam sounds cuter, like Ecto.”

“You’re so weird, you know that.”

“I’m a glorious weirdo, remember?”

“Yes, how can I forget. Now, _please_ tell me where we’re going.”

“Not until we’re at the airport.”

“Urgh, you suck.”

“Well, that’s true.” You say smirking, before seeing horror on Erin’s face, and confusion on Jane’s. “It’s alright, she hasn’t a clue what we’re talking about. Now let’s gooooo!”

_8 hours later_

“Yano, I _still_ can’t believe we’re in Paris, babe. Oh, my God, it’s stunning. I mean, thing of all the history and the cuisine and all the sights we can see. Oh, it’s so romantic.”

“Well, the City of Love, doesn’t get its name for no reason.”

“I love you, I love you, I love you.”

“Well, I sincerely hope that you do, considering you married me, an’ all!” you jibe.

“Yeah, but I love you _even more_. Not that I think it’s possible to love you any more than I already do.”

“Aww, babe. Look at my princess all happy, ready to burst with excitement.”

“I’m allowed. You’re not the only one who gets excited over stuff.”

“I know you are, but let’s get to the Marquis Faubourg Saint-Honoré, which is a short walk from the Louvre.”

“Sounds exciting, and posh.”

“Well, it’s a 5* all-inclusive.”

“Holtz! You _didn’t_?!”

“I bloody well did.”

“Oh, my God. How?!”

“Erm, nope. Not saying. Let’s call a cab.” You dial a number. “Bonjour. Un taxi à l’hôtel Marquis Faubourg Saint-Honoré, s’il vous plaît?” **[i]**

A female voice addresses you. _“Bonjour. Combien de passagers?”_ _ **[ii]**_

“Deux.” **[iii]**

_“Pas de problème. Où êtes-vous?”_ _**[iv]** _

“Aéroport Charles de Gaulle.” **[v]**

_“_ _Je vais envoyer un pilote dans cinq minutes. Et le nom, s’il vous plaît?” **[vi]**_

“Holtzbert.”

 _“Merci, c’est_ _réservé_ _._ _Au revoir.”_ _ **[vii]**_ The lady hangs up. You look at the time, before pocketing your phone.

Erin turns to you, flabbergasted, with mouth agape. You click your tongue, winking at the same time. “Okay, so when did you learn French?”

“Middle School from my Uncle Bert and Auntie Flo, who took me to France on multiple vacations, High School as a language subject and again as an undergrad at MIT. Well, that was more of a hobby when I was 18.”

“My God, that was sexual. Is there anything you can’t do?”

“Um, I’m shit at drums, baking and, erm, knitting.”

“But you can play some instruments, right? I think you said before.”

“Yes, guitar, cello, piccolo, I’ve attempted double bass and flute as well.”

“Holy shit, that’s hot. And we know you can sing, and do silly voices and I’ve heard you impersonating some celebs.”

“Eh, I try.”

“Try-shmy, you’re great at it.”

“Merci, bébé. Or should I say _ma jolie femme._ Which means ‘my pretty wife’.”

“Aww, that’s cute. And what’s _bébé?”_

“It means ‘baby’.

“Oh, well, I should’ve guessed that, considering it sounds the same, just with an accent.” She adds, chuckling. “I know like 3 phrases. I can say _Bonjour_ , _s’il vous plait_ and _merci_. Okay, three words, not phrases. Oh, I can also ask, ‘ _Toilettes s’il vous plait?_ ’ My Dad taught me that one; although that’s more of a statemented question, than an actual question.”

“Can you at least ask for a beer?”

“Um, no. My Dad thought saying ‘toilets please’ was much more important.”

“Okay, well, it’s easy. _‘Bière’_ is beer. So ‘ _Une bière, s’il vous plait.’_ You’ll be needing that one, especially when I’m inebriated. Although, they do speak very good English, but we have to at least try and speak their language.”

“Oh, ya, I agree. So _bière?”_ Erin asks, then raises an eyebrow at you. “And when do you plan on getting inebriated?”

“Honey, we’re in France. Wine is readily available with every meal, and you know how quick wine gets me drunk.”

“Yeah, cos you drink beer, lager and cider like it’s water.”

“Exactly my point.”

“Alright, but I’m leaving you in the street.”

“Charming. After all this time? When I need you the most, you’re gonna ditch me? How positively rude, _chéri._ ”

“Well, you love me, so…”

“Yes. Yes, I do.”

The taxi pulls up and the driver gets out to help you put the suitcases in the boot. He holds the door open for Erin, who gets in the back, before holding the other backdoor open for you. You smile, thank him in French, and climb in next to your wife. He checks the boot is shut firmly, before getting in. He looks to see if you’re wearing your belts, puts his on, and sets off towards the hotel, near the Louvre.

“Ah, Mesdames. Je suis Francis votre chauffeur pour cet après-midi. Êtes-vous bien?” **[viii]**

“Nous allons bien, merci.” **[ix]**

“Des amis en vacances? **”** **[x]**

“Non, nous sommes mariés et en lune de miel.” **[xi]**

“Ah, félicitations. La France est heureuse de vous avoir. Nous sommes très amicaux avec les homosexuels. Nous croyons en l’amour et la paix. Bienvenue, Bienvenue.” **[xii]**

“Merci beaucoup. Nous sommes très heureux d’être ici. Ma femme ne comprend pas, alors je vais traduire pour elle.” **[xiii]**

The man looks at you both in his rear-view mirror, before speaking in a thick French accent. “Ah, I speak Anglais, eh, pardon. _English._ I say France is friendly to the homosexuals. You are welcome here.”

“Ohhh, thank you, I got the word _‘homosexuals’_ but I was confused, thought we were in trouble.”

“Oh, no, Erin, France is very gay friendly. A lot of European countries are, to be fair. And if they were against it, do you _really_ think I would have booked us here?”

“Oh, yeah, good point.” She pulls a face, then kisses your cheek. “ _It’s very sexy when you speak French, by the way_.” She whispers.

“ _I thought you’d like it.”_

 _“I really do.”_ She says, kissing your cheek again.

The car journey continues in relative silence, with the occasional question, in French, about what you do, how you met and how long you’ve been married. You answer them all with enthusiasm, and Francis sounds genuinely interested to learn about the two of you. However, you avoid telling him about the Ghostbusters, as that’s central to New York, and you feel that anyone outside of America, might not understand the gravitas of the situation, and might think of you as fools, or worse still, frauds.

Soon enough, you’re pulling up outside the Marquis Faubourg Saint-Honoré hotel. Francis helps you with your bags, and they end up on a shiny gold, luggage birdcage, and swiftly taken inside by a bellboy dressed in a smart red coat, with gold buttons, and a red fez, with gold and black trimmings. You take Erin’s hand and the pair of you mosey up to the reception to check in.

“Bonjour et Bienvenue à l’hôtel Marquis Faubourg Saint-Honoré. Comment puis-je vous aider?” **[xiv]**

“Bonjour. Je voudrais vérifier, s’il vous plait. La réservation est sous ‘Holtzbert’. **[xv]**

“Voici votre clé. Vous êtes dans la Suite Supérieure. Vous trouverez tout ce dont vous avez besoin dans la pièce. La réception est ouverte 24-heures par jour, si vous avez besoin de quoi que ce soit. Le code WiFi est dans votre chambre. Nous offrons également un service de chambre 24-heures pour vous. John va vous montrer votre chambre. Passez un agréable séjour et merci d’avoir choisi le Marquis Faubourg Saint-Honoré. Nous espérons que vous apprécierez votre visite dans notre merveilleux pays.” **[xvi]**

“Merci de votre aide et pour la chambre, ma femme et moi l’apprécions. Puis-je demander à quelle heure sont les repas?” **[xvii]**

“Le petit déjeuner est servi entre 7h00 et 9h00. Le déjeuner est servi entre 12h00 et 14h00. Le dîner est servi entre 18h00 et 20h00. Il y a un menu dans votre chambre et tout est inclus dans le prix. Comme il s’agit d’un l’hôtel réservé aux adultes, le bar de la piscine sera ouvert de 11h00 à 01h00, tous les jours. Sauf le dimanche où elle sera ouverte à 14:00 et puis 20:00 car la barre personnel vont à l’église.” **[xviii]**

“Merci pour toute votre assistance. Ici, veuillez accepter ceci comme astuce pour votre aide. Nous vous sommes très reconnaissants et vous avez été formidable.” **[xix]** You smile and hand the lady €20, as a nice gesture. She tries to protest, but you keep on insisting. “Non, non, j’insiste. Vous avez été plus qu’utile pour nous. Je sais que nous ne sommes que des Américains, mais nous donnons un bon pourboire. Notre personnel de restauration n’a pas un bon salaire, donc ils sont toujours gratifiés. Je laisse toujours un pourboire d’au moins 10%, sinon 20% en plus.” **[xx]**

“Merci, vous êtes trop gentil. Je dois aussi dire que votre Français est excellent. Comme tu le dis, vous êtes Américains, alors où es-tu appris?” **[xxi]**

“Ma tante et l’oncle m’a pris à la France en vacances, quand j’étais à la 6e année, donc ils m’ont enseigné. Au lycée, j’ai choisi d’étudier la langue Français et il est devenu un passe-temps au cours de mes études de premier cycle à l’Université de MIT. MIT signifie Massachusetts Institute of Technology, et il est situé à Cambridge, Massachusetts. Français est ma deuxième langue, alors je le parle très bien. J’ai fait Français avancé et j’ai excellé dans la salle de classe. Je suis bilingue.” **[xxii]**

“Eh bien, votre Français est très bon. Ils doivent être fiers. MIT semble passionnant. Qu’as-tu étudié?” **[xxiii]**

“Je vous remercie. Ils sont également fiers de moi. J’ai pris 4 plats et il y a dans chacun des modules facultatifs et obligatoires. Les principaux thèmes sont les suivants : _Génie Mécanique_ , _Génie Électrique et Informatique_ , _Physique_ et _Science et Ingénierie Nucléaire_. J’ai pris en trop pendant les quatre années, j’ai abandonné _Génie Électrique et Informatique_ et _Génie Mécanique_. Mon accent était mis sur _Physique_ et _Nucléaire Science et ingénierie_. Ensuite, je suis allé une deuxième université pour ma thèse de doctorat en _Expérimental et Théorique la Physique des Particules_ et spécialisé en _Nucléaire Ingénierie_. Erin aussi est allé au MIT et a étudié la _Physique_ , mais nous ne satisfaisait pas là puisque nous avons eu différents professeurs et jointes à des années différentes. Nous avons rencontré en juillet 2016 et devinrent rapides amis. Je vous ferai revenir pour travailler parce que vous vous ennuyez probablement.” **[xxiv]**

“J’ai aimé écouter votre histoire. Merci de me l’avoir dit. Bon après-midi, mesdames.” **[xxv]**

“Au revoir, Hélène.” **[xxvi]**

John nods at you and indicates towards the elevators. You notice your bags aren’t in the reception area, and note that they have probably already been delivered to your room, whilst you were giving your whole life story to Hélène. He presses the call button and when it arrives, gestures for you to step into the elevator. The journey, as expected, is silent, except for the faint elevator music, which is akin to that of mall music. You reach the required floor, and the elevator doors slide open noiselessly. You and Erin follow John and he takes you to your room; you notice the sign outside is English and reads:

**SUPERIOR SUITE**

You smirk to yourself as John unlocks the door. You _know_ Erin will instantly love the room. You grab your bags off the waiting trolley as the door swings open. The pair of you walk in and Erin immediately drops her suitcase and her jaw.

“Oh. My. God.” She says, pausing between each word. “Jillian, this is amazing. It’s absolutely gorgeous. Oh, my God, look at that painting … Oh, wow, look at the view … and there’s a minifridge … and, woah, look at this … OH, MY GOD, HAVE YOU SEEN THE SIZE OF THE BATHTUB, BABE!” she shouts from the huge en suite.

John smiles at you and asks, in broken English, if you need help with anything. You shake your head … and then ask about the aircon that you spot in the corner of the room. He nods and picks up a white control from the sideboard. He shows you how to set it hot and cold and how to adjust the temperature. You thank him and hand him $20. He shakes his head, but you nod yours. A smile creeps across his face, as he pockets the note, before bowing slightly and backing out of the room, pulling the door closed.

Picking up Erin’s suitcase, you wheel them over to the bed and dump them at the foot. You spring up and throw yourself into the middle of the king-sized bed, sinking into the overly soft mattress. You let out a long, loud sigh and she returns from the bedroom smelling her hands. “Babe, they’ve got lavender scented moisturising cream. It smells sooo goooood. Like, seriously, smell my palm.” You oblige and breathe in deep, before planting a soft kiss in the middle of it. You kiss up her fingers, before taking her index finger in your mouth and gently sucking at it. She giggles as you stare into her grey-blue eyes, seductively. You take her index finger out of your mouth, and lick the length of it. You kiss her palm again, before folding her fingers and kissing the back of her hand, twice.

“Are you seducing me, Mrs Holtzbert?”

“I am indeed, Mrs Holtzbert.” You say, giving her a smouldering look. You slowly run your tongue over your top teeth and then your bottom lip, before proceeding to bite it. You hold your lip in your teeth and wink at her. Your technique has obviously worked, because the next thing you know, is you’re being pushed back flat into the bed and your wife is straddling you.

“Tonight, I’m saying thank you for this stunning hotel, and in France, no less. Prepare to have your wildest fantasies met, your weird kinks, if you have any, fulfilled, and your mind blown, my darling.”

“Just to stop you there, I don’t have any weird kinks or fetishes. You know my thing is to have you blindfolded and banging me.”

“Is that whilst you’re tied up?”

“Well, I didn’t bring any rope, or a tie, or anything. And I don’t think it would be wise to take the curtain rope.”

“Aw, but where’s the fun?”

“Getting laid by my wife. For the first time as wife and wife.” She starts kissing you, and you lose your train of thought. “You know we haven’t even … um, uhm … eerr … thingied the wedding.”

“Consummated?”

“Yeah, that.”

“Well, that’s what this honeymoon is for. Wild, crazy, hot, steamy, unbelievable, sex. You know I’m gonna shag the brains out of you.”

You gulp audibly. “Now who’s the crude one? Oof, I’m really flustered now, thanks for that.”

“Feeling frisky yet?” she asks, tying her shoulder-length hair into a rough bun.

“Baby, I’ve been frisky since we arrived…and here I mean _excitable_ , not horny. Although, I _have_ been horny since I kissed your hand.”

“Ah, so not long then. I thought you were struggling to keep it in your pants, flirting in French with the receptionist.”

“You _know_ that’s not true. I’ve only got eyes for you. And, if you are gonna shag my brains out … please let me keep my eyes, so I can stare at your pretty face and your grey-blue spherical orbs.”

“How the hell do you manage to romanticise ‘eyes’? I don’t understand it, but that was poetic.”

“I’m an old romantic; an old soul. I treat my girls like Queens, and I make everything sound quixotic.”

“That word – even that word is beautiful.”

You raise an eyebrow and half-smile. “Kiss me again.”

“I’ll do more than that, Jill. I’mma make you beg for it.”

“Oh, shit.” You say, exhaling and then moaning with the thought.

“Oh, yes.” She kisses you, with more passion and zeal than she has ever kissed you before, and you feel every hair stand up, goosebumps rising on your skin and a shiver running down your spine.

Stifling a moan, there’s a knock at the door. You grumble and roll your eyes. _“Fucking perfect.”_ You think. Erin gets off you, wipes her mouth, and dashes to the door. She flings it open and reveals a nervous-looking young lad, of about 12 standing in the corridor. He mumbles a hello, and holds up a passport – yours, which you left in reception. Erin takes it from him and goes to her purse on the sideboard, before handing him $5, which seems appropriate for a young boy.

“No pay, I young. No pay.” He says, in a European accent (Erin cannot tell what it is, but she knows it’s not French) He nods, and scurries away. Erin shuts the door, and puts the money and the passport in her handbag.

“Trust you to leave your freakin’ passport in reception. Which reminds me, we’ll need to apply for new ones, due to the name-change.”

“Aww, but I like that photo.”

“Get the same one then.”

“Wait, you can do that?”

“Yes, how do you not know this?”

“That’s my second passport. I had one when I came here visiting with my Aunt and Uncle, and then I got one when my cousin Audrey and I went to Tijuana.”

“When did you go to Tijuana?”

“Like, um, 9 years ago. May 6 to May 16, 2014.”

“Damn, that is a while ago. You’ve got a year left on the passport anyway. Lasts 10 years.”

“I know, I know. I just like that photo, cos I just got rid of my adult braces.”

“You had braces?”

“For many, many years. And that was around the same time I had a perm. And then I had a retainer for many years, and had a bit of a lisp, especially when singing, and then got Invisalign.”

“Oh, the perm.” She inhales. “God, I remember the perm phase.” She exhales and crosses the room to you. And then turns around towards the room door.

“Where you going now?”

“There’s a ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign. It’s going on, and I’m locking the door.”

“Ah, good idea, dearest.”

She opens the door, affixes the sign to the door handle, closes it, turns the knob and checks the handle; it opens. “Ah, so opens from the inside, but not the outside. Good for if there’s a fire.”

“There won’t be.”

“Hopefully, but at least we know how to get out.”

“Okay, I like your forward thinking, now can we resume, please?”

“Maybe, I want to watch some French TV.”

“Baaaabe. I want my wife, my baby, my lover, my partner, my sex machine, my goddess. Please. Come here.”

“Oh, well when you put it like that…” Erin wanders over from the door and climbs on to the foot of the bed. She crawls slowly up it and you stare at her, hungry for her body and her feverish kisses. She stares into your eyes, and slowly licks her lips. “But you’re the sex machine, babe. You’re an absolute beast in the sheets.” You smirk at her and watch her come closer. Closing the gap between your lips, she presses her soft, moisturised lips to your dry, chapped lips, before she pulls away again. “You’ve been biting your lips again, haven’t you?” she asks, rhetorically.

“Yes, I know, it’s a bad habit. I do it when I’m nervous.”

“No, you bite your nails when you’re nervous.”

“And my lips, and I crack my knuckles; I just don’t do the latter around you.”

“Okay, well, I have some lip balm in my handbag. You need some before I kiss you again. They look sore, and I don’t like them when they’re dry. And _yes_ I have mentioned that before.”

“I know. I did bad.” You say, sadly. She kisses your forehead as you recline into the pillows. She returns with some Aloe Vera lip balm and instructs you to moisturise your lips. “But it’ll only come off again.”

“True, but I’d rather start by kissing soft lips, than hardened ones.”

“Fine.” You say, before pulling a face and smearing lip balm over your mouth. You grin at her, like a kid. “Better?” you ask.

“Much, now come here.”

“Nuh-uh, you’re coming to me. I’m not moving. I’ve been comfy for ages, Er-bear.”

“Urgh, fine. God you’re so demanding.” She places the lip balm tin on the bedside cabinet, before grabbing the front of your _Batman_ t-shirt and pulling you in close, pressing her lips, to your now-moisturised lips. She smiles against them and playfully bites at your lower one, pulling a little at the flesh and making you wince slightly. She mutters something incoherent and you tilt your head to one side, furrowing your brow in the process. She just kisses you again and doesn’t repeat what was said.

Quickly your clothes are being pulled off and dumped on the floor, before Erin starts taking hers off. You go to help, but she smacks your hands out of the way. You place them under your head, and just enjoy the view from her straddling your lap. Once she’s just as naked as you are, she gets to work with her foreplay. Stroking your skin, making the goosebumps rise again. She places kisses all over your body and gets close to your nipples, but doesn’t touch them. You’ve learnt to lie there and just take it as it is, letting her tease you and get you worked up. She sees you watching her and smirks again. “You’re thirsty for me, girl.” She says.

“Well, ya, you’re absolutely gorgeous, your straddling me, you’ve got gorgeous eyes, a wonderful shaped body, two perfect tits, a smackable ass … oh, and you’re my _wife._ Of course I’m thirsty for you and hungry too.”

She licks her lips and continues to tease you. “Yeah, and tonight, this body is aaaaalll yours. Like every night. And every day.”

“I hope we get to see the sights – and I don’t _just_ mean each other’s bodies. I do wanna see the museums, chateaus and art galleries, please.”

“All in good time, Jill-bug, all in good time.”

You pull a face. “That’s my parents’ nickname, and I’d rather not associate my parents with us having sex.”

“Oh, right, yeah course. That’s cool. Sorry, boo.”

“It’s alright, carry on.” She leans down and startles you by biting your nipple. “Hey, ohhh! Oof, shit. I was not expecting nipple bites. Jesus, woman, you trying to bite them off?”

“Nope, just get you aroused. Hey, look, it’s working. This one’s erect.”

“Wonderful, but be gentle.” You say, with slight exasperation.

She nods and playfully nibbles at the other one; gentler than the left one. She kisses your waist and hips, and locates your turn on spot a millimetre to the inside of your right hip. You breathe air through your nose and tilt your pelvis upwards. She hasn’t hit this spot in months, and you’re instantly wet. Holding your breath, you look up at the ceiling and she notices your displaced attention.

“You okay, honey?”

“Water, water everywhere.” You state. She grins and dips her head. With new-found confidence, she laps away at your clit, making your breath catch in your chest. You moan with pleasure and your eyes roll back into your head, as you push your pelvis upwards, making her lick harder than before. She begins sucking at your clit, taking the small tender flesh in her mouth, and making your body spasm. You’ve not had a whole-body spasm before, and it’s equally exciting as it is painful, due to various muscles squeezing and your clit now being overly-sensitive.

You begin to protest, telling her that you’re finding it hard to concentrate, when she stops licking and quickly, and enthusiastically, sticks two fingers inside of you and begins working away at your G-Spot. You moan, extra loudly this time, and she smiles at you, which you catch as you look open-mouthed into her face. You make a pleasured guttural noise and push your head into the pillow. As she continues hitting your G-Spot, she sucks at your left nipple and plays with your right one, with her left hand. You don’t know where this has come from, but you’re instantly drawn to the fact that this is the best sex you’ve had in a while, and you’ve now broken a sweat.

She stops working and flips you over to your front. As she does so, she grabs your hair, making you gasp and she kisses and bites at your neck, forgetting your No-Hickeys-on-the-Neck rule. She continues attacking your neck and pulling at your hair, making your eyes roll back again. Even in this awkward position, you find her fingering you again and, although it’s putting strain on your rib and back muscles, you find yourself enjoying it. She stops kissing your neck and pulls back to see her handiwork – the biggest lovebite anyone has ever seen. She kisses it better and releases your hair, before slapping your ass a few times, including one very hard slap. You cry out, in mild pain, as well as exhilaration, and let her take control of you.

She pushes you about, positioning you how she wants you and you let her. Once you’re on your front, with your knees bent, ass in the air and leaning forward on your elbows, she smacks your ass again, before kissing the reddened buttock, where she has left a handprint.

She’s surprised at your compliance and calls you out on it. “Okay, you haven’t protested once, are you okay?”

“Yes, honey. I was wondering what you were doing, but it’s hot when you take charge and I know that doesn’t happen very often, and I was excited to find out what you were gonna do. I am gonna kill you if you’ve left a lovebite on my neck though, babe. We’re not 14!” She chuckles nervously and shrugs. You groan in annoyance, but start smiling. “As you were, baby.”

“Okay, don’t freak out, I wanna try something.”

“Uhhmm, okay…”

She pushes you down flat, pushing your legs under hers, so she’s side-on to you. She kisses your buttock again, before kissing the other one. The kisses feel awkward and you know she’s unsure of what she’s about to do.

“You don’t have to try anything new.” You mumble, your voice dampened by the pillow.

“I know, but I want to.” She says, before kissing your ass again. She inhales before slowly running her tongue along the length of your ass. She stops as you jerk your body away from her.

“Wha-wha-what was that?”

“Sorry, was that not okay?”

“Well, what were you doing? And don’t say licking my butt – like why?”

“I heard that’s a thing lesbians do; they eat ass.”

“Yes, I know they do, bu-bu-did yo-uh-ah…” you groan and then sigh.

“Sorry, should we have discussed this first?”

“Yah, probably. Tha-tha-that was, uhhh, a bit weird. Isn’t that normally done before anal?”

“I don’t know. I just Googled, like, ‘how to experiment in the bedroom’.”

“And eating ass was the first suggestion?”

“No, the 15th, actually.”

“What the hell was number 1?”

“Oral sex.”

“Ah, figures. But, tha-tha-that was, uh, that was not okay.”

“Noted. Okay, so never do that, or just not today, or just because we hadn’t discussed it?”

“Well, I don’t know, hon, but that’s not happening today, sorry, I-I-I’m freaked out. I know you said don’t, but, I can’t help it. The last time you were near my ass, there was a rectal thermometer in it.”

“Yeah, that’s true.”

“I’m…I’m sorry.” You start breathing weirdly.

“Babe, are you having a panic attack?”

“I think so. Get me water, please?”

“Sure, on it.” She springs off you as you roll onto your back and try to calm your breathing. She returns with a glass of water and sits you up. She hands it to you, and then steps back, away from the bed, giving you space to calm down.

After a few minutes of deep breathing, and drinking the water, your breathing and heart rate has returned to normal. “Okay, so none of that today, please, and you’re gonna have to wash your mouth out before giving me any more head.”

“I was gonna do that anyway.” She says, slipping into the bathroom. Once she returns, she finds you on your side, with your back to the bathroom. You’re in the foetal position and she knows that she’s pushed you to your limits today. She rounds the bed and climbs it from the other side; she lies down and faces you, not saying anything. You stare into each other’s eyes, before you close yours and sigh deeply.

You speak to her, still with your eyes shut. “Look, I’m game for new things to make the sex a little more hot, well hotter than it already is, but please, if you’re gonna do something completely new and freaky and like 50 Shades of Grey, please consult me first, babe. We’re both new to this stuff, and with your anxiety and my Asperger’s, that’s a recipe for disaster. I know you were only trying to liven this honeymoon, but that’s proper freaked me out, and turned me off. I’m sorry babe, but I can’t right now. I need to psychologically calm down, and then, can we just, like, have regular sex?”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think. I’m a shit partner.” She says, looking sadly at you.

“Oh, fuck’s sake, Erin, don’t say that. You’re not shit. We get so caught up in the moment, we don’t think to ask.” You say, opening your eyes. “I didn’t exactly ask when I nailed you with the strap-on, did I? No, because I was caught up in the moment, being horny and wanting to try something new. I’ll ask to try stuff, if you ask to try stuff? That’s fair, right?”

“Yeah, no, that’s fair. Alright, I’m sorry, I should’ve asked, cos that is kinda a big deal.”

“Yeah, it, it, it is, uhm, yeah, that’s a big deal. Cos I think that’s usually done before anal; I could be wrong though. And you know how strong my opinions are on anal.”

“Can’t we try it, just, like, _once?_ ”

“No.”

“Aw, but why though.”

“Because that’s an exit, not an entry.”

“Yeah, but anal is pretty fun and there’s more spots in your ass. Well, I know the G-Spot is in the guy’s ass, or is it the C spot? I dunno. It is fun though.”

“No, Erin. I just, no, I, I, er, er, get, get, get bad visions.”

“Whhhy?”

“I had a college mate who had a _lot_ of anal, a let’s just say, _gaping._ ”

“Holy shit.”

“Yes, and, well, your colon can, er, um, drop down, and basically fall out of your ass.”

“Whaaat?”

“Yes.”

“Noooo. I thought that was from straining on the loo.”

“Yeah, well, that too.”

“You’re pulling my leg. I call bullshit.”

“Alright, Google it.”

“Yeah, no thanks. Right, _fine_ , no anal.”

“Thank you.” You kiss her and roll over, so you’re the little spoon. You press into her and she takes this opportunity to pull you in close for a tight cuddle.

“ _So, what can I do to get Hotzmann horny again?”_ she whispers.

“ _Hotzmann_?” you ask.

“Yes, cos you’re hot.”

“But, we’re Holtzbert.”

“Yes, but _Hotzbert_ doesn’t quite have the same gravitas. Plus, my sweetie pie is the man of the relationship.”

“Eh, I’ll take that as a compliment, Ghost Girl.”

“You’re welcome, Ghost Tits.”

“Heeey, my tits have grown, thank you.”

“I know, but they’re still smaller than mine.”

“Bitch. Yeah, well, I’ve got a bigger dick.”

“I know, and that’s hot.”

“Oh you like that, huh?”

“Sure do babycakes.”

“Ah, good, then it’s my turn.” You get up, leaving her looking confused and open your suitcase. Unravelling some clothes, you pull out first the strap and then the dildo which you managed to conceal and get through security at the airport. You attach the dildo to the cock-ring and the strap-on to you, before joining her on the bed.

“Okay, but how did you get that through security.”

“Don’t ask, just accept. Now, it’s my turn to make you my bitch.”

“Ha, yes please.” Erin says, lying flat and spreading her legs. You lean down and lick at her pussy, feeling the moisture on your tongue and smiling at her being turned on.

“Well, someone’s horny.”

“I haven’t stopped being horny, babe. Now are you gonna fuck me, or what?”

“Uh, uh. Daddy’s in charge.”

“Babe, I didn’t like it when you said ‘Who’s your Daddy?’ cos it made you sound like a Sugar Daddy/pimp. What makes you think I’ll like it now?”

“Cos we’re married? Just ‘Daddy’ by itself doesn’t make me a pimp. Now, shut up cos Daddy’s gonna make you his bitch.”

“Okay, fuck me, that’s hot.”

“Yeah, it is.” You say, enthusiastically, before licking at her vagina again. You keep giving her oral sex, until she cums not once, but twice. As she lies there, catching her breath for the second time, you position yourself, ready to penetrate her.

“Babe, I really don’t think I’ve got enough energy.”

“That’s why I’m top, because I do.”

“Touché, but I don’t know if I have any cum left.”

“Then just orgasm, bitch.” You reply, playfully. “That’s all I want. To hear my girl moaning with pleasure, because she’s enjoying the sex I give her. You said I’m a beast in the sack, and tonight I’m feelin’ pretty beastly.”

“You’ve battered me for two, I don’t think I can take a third, but we can try. Okay, I’m ready, put it in.”

“Ooh, demanding.” You say, pulling a duckface.

“Babe, don’t duckface.”

“Sorry, didn’t know I was. Alright. And … here … we … go!”

“Okay, Joker, I’ll be your Harley Quinn.”

You push the dildo in with a little force and thrust deeply into her, making her groan with pleasure. You pull out and push in again, this time you’re the one groaning. As you do this, you speed up and go deeper, faster and harder, breaking a sweat on your forehead, before she breaks a sweat on hers. You ask her to try some Karma Sutra positions; admitting you’ve read the book, and she agrees. The different positions stimulate her in different ways, and you can tell from her moans, which ones work and which ones don’t. You make a mental note of them and continue making love to her.

“What happened to regular sex?” she asks, breathlessly.

“I lied. Sorry, hon.”

“No, it’s … oh, my God, yeah, like that, Holtz … Oh, shit …” she moans loudly and suddenly her whole body shakes uncontrollably. She grabs your arm and squeezes it tightly, grabbing the sheets with her free hand. She tenses up, arches her back, and shouts your name. “HOLTZY!!!!” Then she sneezes and cums, visibly white on the black rubber dildo. You carry on for a little while longer, slowing down, teasing her, before you go to pull out. “No, don’t. Make me cum again.” She says pulling your arm down and pushing the dick back in. You oblige and make your lovemaking last longer by going slowly and gently. You kiss her as you thrust and your tongue finds its way into her mouth. She moans into yours and grabs your hair again. She pulls your head up and tongues you semi-aggressively, before letting go and dragging her nails down your back. “Harder.” She demands.

You retract and push into her, pushing your full body weight on to her, before retracting again. She pushes her pelvis into you and the two of you get a rhythm going, where you’re sharing the work. You repeat this, her moans increasing in volume again, and you’re both sweating properly, through the combined effort. As you thrust for the sixth time, you start moaning yourself, enjoying taking control and destroying Erin. She destroys your back, clawing it until it bleeds, but you ignore the pain and keep making her feel pleasure. Throwing you off her, she flips you on to your back and straddles you, pushing the dick back inside her. She rotates her hips against it and then begins bouncing up and down on it, much to your enjoyment, as you see her breasts jiggling as well. She then rocks forwards and backwards, grinding her hips into you as she does so and this time, you’re grabbing her hair and biting at her neck. She moans again, and keeps being active, until, panting, she orders you on top again.

“Take me hard, _really_ hard. I want to cum again for you.”

You say nothing, but do as you’re told, pushing as hard as you can into her G-Spot. She moans loudly again, and now it’s her turn for a whole-body spasm. As her legs shake under you, you get cramp in your calf, but power through, until she sneezes, louder and harder than she has ever done before and squirts over the dildo, your vagina, stomach and the bedsheets. She flops down, breathing heavily, and you pull out, before dropping to your back and stretching out your right leg. Without even gaining her breath, she straddles you and dips her head, sucking her cum off the dildo. She then proceeds to give it a brief ‘blowjob’ before kissing you passionately and letting you taste her on your tongue again.

You sigh as her tongue runs over yours; you taste her cum in your mouth and swallow it, grinning in the process. She notices that you have swallowed and smirks at you. “Taste good, do I?”

“As always.”

“Good, I’ll do that again, if you’d like?”

“Let’s have a break, before round two. I’m dying for a piss.”

“Jesus, Holtz, you’re so unromantic at times.”

“Yeah, well, you married me, so enjoy the romantic stuff, the crude stuff and all the stuff in between.”

“I do, babe, I do.”

You get up off the bed, and pull the strap-on off, before dumping it on the bed, and dashing into the bathroom. You hum to yourself as you pee and hear Erin groan loudly in the adjacent room.

“You okay, babe?” you call.

“Just a bit sore, I think you _may_ have broken me this time, Holtzy.”

“Aha, sorry!”

“It’s alright, but I definitely think I’ll need that break.”

“Thought as much. Oh, chuck the telly on?”

“Alright.” Erin grabs the remote off the nightstand and surfs the channels until she finds an English-speaking channel playing the Billboard Top 100. A dance song plays through the speakers, but neither of you are really paying attention to it. You finish up in the bathroom, and clamber, still naked, on to the bed and pull her into your arms. She rests her head on your right breast and drapes her arm over your stomach, hooking her right leg over yours, and tucking her now-cold foot under it. You fuss about it being cold, but let her get comfortable.

Within a couple of minutes, Erin begins gently snoring and you feel it through your chest. You gently shake your head in amusement, and turn the TV off. Throwing the duvet over the pair of you, you settle down and close your eyes. Soon too, you’re asleep, with Erin wrapped around you, worn out from the best sex you’ve had in a while.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
 **French to English Translations:**

**[i]** “Hello. A taxi to the Marquis Faubourg Saint-Honoré Hotel, please?"

 **[ii]** "Hello. How many passengers?"

 **[iii]** "Two."

 **[iv]** "Not a problem. Where are you?"

 **[v]** "Airport Charles de Gaulle."

 **[vi]** "I'll send a driver in five minutes. And the name, please?" 

**[vii]** “Thanks, that's reserved. Good bye.”

 **[viii]** "Ah, ladies. I'm Francis your driver for this afternoon. Are you alright?"

 **[ix]** "We're fine, thanks."

 **[x] **“Friends on holiday?”

 **[xi]** “No, we are married and on our honeymoon.”

 **[xii]** "Ah, congratulations. France is happy to have you. We're very friendly with homosexuals. We believe in love and peace. Welcome, welcome."

 **[xiii]** “Thank you very much. We are very happy to be here. My wife does not understand, so I'll translate for her.”

 **[xiv]** “Hello and welcome to the Marquis hotel Faubourg Saint-Honoré. How can I help you?”

 **[xv]** Hello. I would like to check in, please. The reservation is under 'Holtzbert’.

 **[xvi]** “Here is your key. You are in the Superior Suite. You will find everything you need in the room. Reception is open 24-hours a day, if you need anything whatsoever. The WiFi code is in your room. We also offer to you 24-hours room service. John will show you your room. Have a pleasant stay and thanks for choosing the Marquis Faubourg Saint-Honoré. We hope you enjoy your visit in our wonderful country.”

 **[xvii]** “Thank you for your help and for the room, my wife and I appreciate it. May I ask what time are meals?"

 **[xviii]** “Breakfast is served between 07:00 and 09:00. Lunch is served between 12:00 and 14:00. Dinner is served between 18:00 and 20:00. There is menu in your room and everything is included in the price. As this is adults-only hotel, the pool bar will be open from 11:00 to 01:00 daily. Except on Sunday where it will be open at 14:00 and 20:00 because the bar staff go to church.”

 **[xix] **“Thank you for all your assistance. Here, please accept this as tip for your help. We are very grateful to you and you were the best.”

 **[xx]** “No, no, I insist. You've been more than helpful for us. I know that we are Americans, but we give a good tip. Our catering staff does not have a good salary, so they are always favoured. I always leave a tip of at least 10% or 20% more."

 **[xxi]** "Thanks, you're too kind. I must also say that your French is excellent. As you say, you're Americans, so where did you learn?"

 **[xxii]** “My aunt and uncle took me to France on vacation, when I was in the 6th grade, so they taught me. In high school, I chose to study the French language, and it has become a hobby during my undergraduate degree at the University of MIT. MIT means Massachusetts Institute of Technology, and it is located in Cambridge, Massachusetts. French is my second language, so I speak very well. I did advanced French and I excelled in the classroom. I am bilingual.”

 **[xxiii]** “Well, well, your French is very good. They must be proud. MIT seems exciting. What did you study?”

 **[xxiv]** "Thank you. They are also proud of me. I took 4 courses and in each there are optional and mandatory modules. The main topics were the following: ‘Mechanical Engineering', 'Electrical Engineering and Computer Science', 'Physics' and ‘Nuclear Science and Engineering’. I took on too much during the four years, so I abandoned ‘'Electrical Engineering and Computer Science' and ‘Mechanical Engineering’. My focus was on ‘Physics’ and ‘Nuclear Science and Engineering’. I then went to a second University for my PhD in ‘Experimental and Theoretical Particle Physics’ and specialised in ‘Nuclear Engineering’. Erin also went to MIT and studied ‘Physics’ but we did not meet there as we had different teachers and joined at different years. We met in July 2016 and became fast friends. I'll let you get back to work because you're probably bored.”

 **[xxv]** “I enjoyed listening to your story. Thank you for telling me. Good afternoon, ladies.”

 **[xxvi]** “Goodbye, Hélène.”


	34. Chapter 32

You wake to the sound of rattling in the corridor; you stir and gently untangle your limbs from Erin’s. She mumbles in her sleep and rolls over to her right side. You get up to pee, before throwing on your boxers and Batman t-shirt and grabbing your Hugh Hefner dressing gown from the suitcase. You sling it over your shoulders, thrust your arms in the sleeves and tie it, for the first time, at your waist.

You pad over to the door, and pull it open, to see what all the commotion is. You see that it is nothing more than the cleaners. You smile at the lady carrying a pile of towels and point to the _‘Do Not Disturb’_ sign on the door, before closing the door again and re-locking it.

As you undo and shrug off the dressing gown, letting it fall to the floor, an idea pops into your head. You strip off, and put the dressing gown back on again, before prodding Erin in the shoulder to wake her up. She mumbles again, but opens her eyes.

“Hey Wifey.” You say, half-smiling.

“I was in a good dream, why’d you wake me?”

“Oh, well, I suppose you don’t want this treat then?” you ask, shrugging.

“No, no, I want it.” She says sitting up and sniffing.

You smile at her, and slowly undo the belt at the front of the dressing gown; you pull it open slightly, resting it on your shoulders, but still covering yourself. You stand there, staring at her, as it slips off your shoulders and on to the floor. “Oopsie.” You say, sexily. “Holtzy sorry.” You watch Erin drink in your naked body once more, before approaching the bed; it’s your turn to crawl seductively up it.

“Well, bonjour.” She says, grinning at you.

“How are you feeling after the passionate throes of last night?”

“Honestly? I’m still tired, but I’m not saying no to morning sex.”

“But only if we can do some sightseeing today, pleeeease?”

“Of course, my darling. We can Google stuff now, make a plan and then shag.”

“Oof, you’re talking my language Erin Gilb—eerrr—Holtzbert.” You boop her nose. “You’re just a lil dorky dork.” You say, before kissing the end of her nose. She squeezes a breast as you go to leave the bed. You kiss her and jump off it, before ratching around in your backpack for your Samsung Galaxy tablet.

“You’re such an Android wanker.”

“Yup, I am. Beats Apple.”

“Says the girl with the iPod Touch.”

“That’s a 2nd Gen, and that’s before I knew any better. Plus, it seems to be lasting a lot longer, charge-wise than either my Huawei, or my Samsung tablet.”

“True, but iPhone though.”

“Has like 10 different versions, of basically the same phone. Android has a multitude; _don’t_ let’s have a debate.”

“Alright, alright. Just Google what you wanna see, I’ll write it down on my phone, and we’ll make a plan of concise timings, prices, lunch times, travel times and dinner times. We eating in or out of the hotel today?”

“Well, it _is_ an all-inclusive, but, fuck it, let’s eat out, and go out for the day.”

“Sounds exquisite to me.”

“Ooh, fancy-pants words on a Monday morning.”

“We’re in France, everything is exquisite here.”

“True dat.”

**_10 minutes later_ **

****

“Alright, so Louvre Museum, Orsay Museum, Paris Museum of Modern Art, Modus Art Gallery, Château of Vincennes, Eiffel Tower, Arc de Triomphe and Cathédrale Notre-Dame de Paris. You sure you wanna do _all_ of this today? We’re not gonna have time.”

“No, no, that’s what I want to see during out 10 day stay.

“Christ, Holtz. You sure we’re gonna fit it all in? Can you narrow it down to one museum, one art gallery and one of the other stuff?”  
You sigh. “Fine. Let’ go see the Louvre, Paris Museum of Modern Art, Château of Vincennes, Eiffel Tower, Arc de Triomphe and Notre-Dame. Oh and the sauna, steam room and pool on-site. Thank you.”

“So, not much then?” Erin asks, chuckling.

“Nope, but we’re here for 10 days, so let’s make the most of it. Plus, most things are close to the Eiffel Tower. But, Erin, what do you wanna do … and don’t say me?”

“Eiffel Tower, Notre-Dame and Louvre.”

“Perfect.”

“But, I also do wanna do you, lover.”

“Right, let’s sort the timings, go to breakfast and have sex.”

“No, sex, breakfast, _then_ timings. Your body’s got me all worked up again. I still can’t get over the fact that you maintained a six pack, whilst I got fat.”

“You didn’t get fat! You got pregnant, and it was beautiful.”

“Urgh, but I didn’t feel beautiful.”

“But, you had the pregnancy glow.”

“True, but you weren’t craving gherkins and cheese.”

“I crave gherkins and cheese … just not at the same time. I’ve eaten a whole jar of sliced pickles before.”

“That’s disgusting.”

“Yeah, I deep throated them, as well.”

“Babe, you don’t deep throat. 1) You’re a lesbian and 2) you have poor gag reflexes.”

“I know that, but I shoved one all in at once before chewing.”

“That’s not the same thing, you vile creature.”

“Oi! That’s rude. I think I’mma withhold sex now, until you apologise.”

“Pfft, give over. You’ll be wanking before too long anyway.”

“Nah, you will. I’m good. I’ve had my sex.”

“Um, babe, I barely gave you a good seeing to last night. Think you only came once.”

“I didn’t actually cum. I got hard for you, and then you decide to try and eat ass and then, all the feeling went. So I didn’t even orgasm. I was close, but then you licked my butt, like a total freak and that was it.”

“Heh. Sorry.”

“Yeah, so you _will_ be licking my pussy right, Erin.”

“Wow. Just wow, Holtz. That’s so blunt.”

“Yeah, well, I’m down to fuck right now, so c’mere, Erin.”

She leans forward and you curl your lip into a snarl, before growling playfully. She responds with a garbled noise, which sounds like a strangled Chewbacca.

“If that was your attempt at Chewie, then that was piss-poor.”

“No, I was just growling.”

“Good, sounded like you were strangling Chewie the Wookiee.”

“The wut?”

“Chewie? Wookiee? Chewbacca? Han Solo’s pal? Any of these ringing a bell? Please tell me you’ve seen Star Wars?”

“Eh, the first film briefly.”

“Urgh, Episode I: The Phantom Menace is shite. Every fan thinks so. At least watch Episode IV: A New Hope.”

“Hmm, maybe. I saw bits of the last one.”

“Solo?”

“No, the one with the girl.”

“Rogue One?”

“No, think it was before that one.”

“Ohh, Episode VII: The Force Awakens. Yeah, that one’s awesome, due to the female and the male ethnic minority leads, oh and it’s also great if you’ve not seen Star Wars before, you’re a new fan or a diehard fan.”

“Yeah, it looked good from the twenty minutes I watched, before I had to leave the house.”

“Still, you watched twenty minutes of a Star Wars movie. Ah, I’m proud of you babe. I’ll make you Star Warrior and a Trekkie yet!”

“Trekkie?”

“Star Trek.”

“Oh, I like the Patrick Stewart ones, but Chris Pine is a total hunk.”

You tilt your head at her. “Ex-cu-se me? _I’m_ a total hunk. Have you _seen_ my six pack?”

“Yes you are and yes, every time your top is off, which is way more frequent that it was like 3 years ago.”

“Well, I’m more confident around you and the girls, so yeah, it’s off. Ooh, I can’t wait for bikini season!”

“Wait, you own a bikini?”

“Yes, several, why?”

“Holy fuck. My woman in a bikini, with a flamin’ body; um, yes please.”

“Good, glad you’re excited. Ooh, that reminds me. Gym. I’d like to keep this body up.”

“Fine by me, I can stare at your ass as you squat and enjoy looking at you, looking all sweaty, with your hair a mess.”

“Hmm, okay then. Can we have sex now, please?”

“Okay, yeah, sure thing babe.” Erin pokes your six pack. “Ooh, these are getting a bit soft, Holtz. You’ve been eating too much junk food.”

“Yes, I know, I _know,_ that’s why I wanna get back into the gym. You know I maintained the sit ups, press ups and crunches as Jane grew up, but my biceps are going, and so’s the pack.”

“Aw, baby, you look good to me. And even if you lost the six pack, I’d still love you.”

“Thanks, sweet cheeks.”

Erin kisses each stomach muscle gently, before kissing your biceps. She tilts her head at you and kisses the air. She gently takes your face in her hands, pulling you in for a soft kiss; a kiss you haven’t received in a while. She plants two more on your lips, before placing subtle kisses on your neck. She breathes deliberately on the skin, prickling it and making it rise in goosebumps. She nibbles at your ear lobe and lightly blows air into the eardrum, making you shiver. Kissing your neck again, she nips at the skin, making you wince, before she rounds on you, attacking your lips with hot and heavy smooches.

As she and you osculate, your hands begin wandering up her back, before you sink your shortened nails into her skin and intentionally drag them down, knowing that you’re leaving deep red marks. She winces in pain, and then lets out a moan.

“Excuse me” she breathes “I’m in charge today. Hands to yourself, please.” She kisses her way down your sternum, just the way you like it, and down to your abs. Once again, she pecks each muscle, before she nibbles at your hips. You exhale and giggle softly, before she dips her head and begins feeling your clitoris with her tongue. She sucks at it, and draws circles over the flesh, before licking down the length of your vagina. Taking the labia majora in her mouth, she sucks at them, making you squirm with pleasure; normally she just ignores them as they don’t really do much for you, but today she’s going the whole hog.

She continues tasting you, feeling you, enjoying you, as you get more and more wet. You writhe around on the sheets, gasping, moaning and softly calling her name. You hold your breath and she does something new; you’re unsure what, but you haven’t felt it before. It’s pleasurable and you release a guttural animalistic moan. She stops and lifts up her head to check that you’re alright.

“Don’t stop.” You hiss.

Erin dips her head again and continues perform oral sex. You spread your legs and bend your knees, a sweat breaking out on your forehead as your legs begin to shake. You grip the sheets and pull at them, untucking them from the right side. You begin to lower your legs, in anticipation of cramp, but Erin’s performance sends them into spasms again. You tilt your head up and push it back into the pillow. Before moaning loudly.

“Cum for me, wifey.” Erin says, momentarily pausing the stimulation.

Your legs cramp up as they continue shaking and you’re sweating and breathing hard again. As you reach climax, Erin does the new thing again, which pushes you over the edge. You’re screaming in pleasure as you reach climax and orgasm. You squirt white cum, and this time it is the most you have ever released. It goes further than before and reaches the end of the bed, soaking the sheets and Erin’s face in the process.

You lay there, defeated, worn out and breathless as Erin resurfaces and brings her face close to yours. She looks at you, completely stunned, before beaming wildly. She wipes her face and takes your breath away again, as she shoves her tongue in your mouth.

“Okay…” you say in between breaths “…that was _the best_ sex ever. What… did…” you pause to regain your breath. Once it has returned to its normal rhythm, you start again “When did you learn that? _How_ did you learn that?”

“A woman never tells her secrets, but I’m glad you enjoyed it, Holtzmann.”

“Enjoyed it? If there was a word better than ‘enjoyed’ then it would be that. Jeez, Louis, whatever you did was a-ma-zing!”

“Thank you and you’re welcome.” Erin says, kissing you again. “Now, come on, get dressed, we’re going out; leaving the hotel behind, beyotch.”

“Where are we going, honey?”

“Notre Dame, followed by lunch up the Eiffel Tower and then who knows where the day’ll take us.”

“Sounds like a plan.” You disappear into the bathroom and moments later the shower starts running. Erin makes an itinerary for the beginning half of the day, and plans her outfit. She begins to plan yours, but instead lays out three options. You return from the bathroom, towel wrapped around your breasts and is greeting by another kiss on the lips followed by a kiss on your left shoulder. Erin points to the end of the bed, where your outfits are, and goes to shower herself.

**_Forty Minutes Later_ **

****

You’re standing before the vast, highly decorated and impressive stone building which is the Notre Dame. Erin is wearing a blue dress with sunflowers on it, with a simple rose-gold necklace and black dolly shoes on her feet. Her red hair is in a high ponytail, with two strands framing her face. You, on the other hand, are in an untucked oversized blue shirt, with the sleeves rolled up to your elbows, black joggers, pulled up to expose the bottoms of your legs, and old white sneakers with large leopard-print sunglasses covering your eyes. Your long socks are pushed down around your ankles and your hair is tied up in a messy bun. In the end, you didn’t choose any of Erin’s suggestions, and she gave up trying to convince you otherwise. Erin looks you up and down and mutters something about “looking scruffy in an ancient church” but you just ignore her and strut towards the building entrance. For someone so short, Erin has to jog to keep up with your man-strides.

You reach the large oak double doors and twist the round handle to the left. The door swings open towards you with a low creak and you walk in. As you lift your sunglasses, you see how stunning the inside is, and immediately hold your breath in awe. Erin reaches the door just as it swings shut, and misses grabbing it by a decisecond. It slams shut and the sound reverberates around the chasm. Several people shuffle in their seats and a few faces turn to see you with shoulders hunched up, grimacing at the overly loud noise. Erin walks in and talks loudly. “You couldn’t have held the door for me, Jillian?”

You hush her. “Dude, I think people are praying.”

Erin lowers her voice. “Oh, shit, sorry…. Oh, sorry Jesus for swearing in this Holy place.” You raise an eyebrow and she shrugs. As you wander down the aisle, Erin tries to grab your hand, but you pull it away and thrust it deep into your pockets, pulling up the bottom of your shirt, so it drapes over your wrist. She closes the gap between you and you pull away. She furrows her brow and lets you wander off, before jogging to catch up with you. She pulls your arm sharply and you stop mid-step.

“What is wrong with you?” she hisses.

“What? Nothing. I-I ju-just … Churches make me uncomfortable being gay, that’s all.” You whisper back.

“Oh, honey, we can leave if you want?”

“No, I wanna see the architecture. I just can’t be all wifey with you, right now. I know that it doesn’t make sense, but I get the feeling that we’re being judged hard right now.”

“By whom?”

“Betty Crocker over there.” You say, gesturing to a woman, sat alone, and staring at you, Rosary beads in hand. She tuts and turns towards the pulpit.

“Oh who cares what she thinks. She’s a hundred. She’ll be dead soon anyway.”

“Erin Jane Gilbert!” you say, appalled. She shrugs and wanders off. Now it’s your turn to jog up to her. You take her hand in yours and hold it tightly.

“I thought churches made you uncomfortable.”

“Eh, screw it. We’re on vacation, in a super romantic place, which is hella gay friendly and yano what? I don’t care.” You lower your voice to a mere whisper. “But just so you know, if she confronts us, you’re my carer.”

“What? No. That’s absurd.”

“You practically are.”

“Okay, you’re Autistic, not an invalid. And a _High Functioning_ Autistic at that.”

“Urgh, fine, but I’m not admitting you’re my wife.”

“Oh shut it, you loon. Oh, shit, she’s coming over. Smile and say nothing.”

The woman stands directly in front of you and you stare at her with wide eyes. “Shame on you, you’re in church didn’t you know?”

“No habla inglés?” You suggest. Erin pokes you.

“Yes, we do know we’re in a church, we’ve come to check out the fabulous architecture and to guess which one of you old biddies is gonna die first. My money’s on you, Betty Crocker.” Erin says, sarcastically. You turn to stare at her.

The old woman gasps audibly. “Have you no shame? No decency? You are making a mockery of this fine institution.”

“Why, for being American?” you ask, pretending to be dumb.

“No, for being… _lesbians_.” The old woman hisses.

“Dude, you’re a hundred. You’re gonna die soon anyway. What’s your problem with a couple of lezzies on their honeymoon?” You say, folding your arms and glaring at her.

“I have spent more than 60 years at this church, and your kind have never stepped foot in this place.”

“Our kind? Our _kind_?!” You say, anger and contempt rising in your voice.

“Oh honey, you have probably seen more gays walking in here than you have ever had sex.” Erin says. Your mouth falls open.

The old woman splutters. “How dare you? I have probably had more sex than you monsters combined. You don’t even have sex!”

“Wow, you’re going there, are you, you harlot? Yeah, that’s right, I said it. _Harlot._ Whatchu gonna do now, huh? Your legs are so far open; I can see the cave you’re hiding in between them all the way from up here. And yes, for once, I am taller than someone, and let me tell you honey, my head might be high up right now, but at least it ain’t in my ass!” You say, breathing angrily, face reddening. You clench your jaw as a male voice, with a soft French accent, calls from further inside the church.

“Agnes. How many times must I tell you to leave the visitors alone?” a slender guy in a cheap suit appears to the side of them, making you and Erin turn slightly. “I’m sorry, has she been causing trouble?”

“Uh, _yes!_ ” You say angrily. “She has basically just scorned us for being gay and for saying that we are monsters and are unable to have sex … err … okay, not something you discuss in church, but I’m sorry, we’re here for our honeymoon, in a country which I thought _accepted_ the gays. We get enough of this shit at home in the States, and _now_ , we have to have it from some stuck up old wh--”

“Holtzmann!” Erin snaps, stopping you from outwardly calling her a ‘whore’. You clench your jaw again and let your lips curl into a snarl.

The man shakes his head and looks down at the floor. “I am so sorry for this unacceptable behaviour. Agnes is one of our oldest members and she is very much set in her old ways, thinking anyone who is different – disabled, homosexual, _black_ , etc. is of the Devil and should perish in the 7 Gates of Hell. I cannot offer you any more than a sincere apology, although, I do have discounts on drinks for the _Gay Bar_ not far from the ‘ _Novotel Paris Les Halles’_ hotel.” The man stresses the words ‘gay bar’ and Agnes shuffles to the other side of the pew to sit down and re-count her Rosary beads.

You slowly blow air through your nose and Erin squeezes your hand reassuringly. “Thank you very much, Mr…?”

“Mr Zara. I am the chairman and the treasurer here. I will give you the address of the bar and I shall see you there, no?”

“Um, yes, but don’t you need to be…?” You say, not needing to finish the sentence.

“Oh _, oui, oui_. I am, in fact, _homosexuel_ _,_ and my position in the church has not been affected, luckily for me. It has taken 20 years to convince Agnes that I am not the _Diable incarné_ , and that I am just as Christian as she is. Come tonight, and I will get you _vin, bière ou cocktails gratuits._ ”

“Ah, _merci_.” You say, grinning at Mr Zara.

He nods at you and begins to give you a tour of _Cathédrale Notre Dame._

_3, 625 Miles Away_

The phone rings as an exhausted Abby and Patty walk through the red side-door. They had spent the last three days chasing an insanely hyperactive Jane and now she was with Erin’s parents. Patty slings her backpack at the two-seater leather sofa they had acquired a few weeks back and Abby dumps herself into it. As Patty goes to sit down, the phone rings again. Looking about her, she notices that Kevin isn’t around. She sighs and heads over to the reception desk.

“Hello, Ghostbusters. Please give a detailed description of your apparition…Uh, huh, yeah, okay, cool. We’ll be there, a’ight?” She scribbles something on a notepad and then hangs up. “Yo, Abby, I’m not saying we’re screwed, but, uh, this sounds like a Class VI, so we might have to call in Holtzmann and Gilbert from their honeymoon; cos we’re screwed, dude.”

Abby sighs. “We can’t do that. You know that, right?”

“Yeah, but a Class VI. How’re we gonna deal with it, just the 2 of us?”

Abby rubs her temples and taps her mouth with her fingers. “FaceTime to Paris?”

“Yeah, we might have to. Hold up, let me get the laptop, it’ll be better to see them.” Patty wanders off in search of one of the four laptops whilst Abby makes space on Kevin’s messy desk. Moments later, Patty returns with a laptop and charger and sets it on the desk. Abby opens Facebook Messenger and types in Holtzmann’s name. She opens the conversation and hits the little video button. The two wait impatiently and Patty grabs a stool from the corner of the room, whilst Abby sits on Kevin’s swivel chair.

Holtzmann answers. “ _What up, heteros? We’re in Notre Dame at the minute, but good to see ya! God, you look tired. Has Jane run circles around you?”_

“Hey Holtz, hey Erin.” Erin waves. “Yeah, she has. She’s at Erin’s parent’s now.”

_“Okay, cool. Has she behaved?” Erin asks._

“Mostly.” Replies Patty. “We’ll tell you homos about that later, but we have a huge problem.”

Holtzmann groans audibly. _“What now? Do we have to cut our vacation short?”_

“Um, we don’t know.” Says Abby, sighing for the third time.

“Yeah, so, um, some dude just called us and described a Class VI haunting, and we’re wonderin’ how we deal with its ass without you two helpin’ us?”

Holtzmann and Erin exchange looks, before heading towards the door. Once outside, they resume talking. _“Didn’t wanna talk about ghosts and stuff inside the church, where we’ve just been slated by this old woman, called Agnes, cos she is against anyone who basically isn’t straight, white and able-bodied, buuut, we do get discounted drinks down at a gay bar with the chairman of the church, so all good.”_

“Woah, straight up bitch!” Patty exclaims.

_“Yea, I know, right. Anyway, Class VI?”_

“Yeah, so, um, this dude rang up and he described a Class VI and we don’t know what to do.”

_“Okay, well you on laptop or iPhone?”_

“Laptop.”

 _“Hang up and call off Abby’s phone; she has unlimited internet_.” Erin says.

The call drops and resumes moments later.

 _“Okay, so go upstairs into the lab_.” Holtzmann says. Abby and Patty do as they’re told. Once inside the lab, Holtzmann asks them to turn on the rear camera and directs them over to her desk. _“Yeah, so what you wanna do is, okay, see there, by the desk… left-hand side. There’s that big metal box? Yeah, yeah, that’s the one… okay, yeah, so open it up.”_

“Holy shit, is that a bazooka?” Patty exclaims.

_“Well, yes and no. It’s a half-size RPG and instead of heat-seeking missiles, they’re ectoplasm-seeking missiles. So like, they’re made for ghosts.”_

“Um, have you ever tested this, you nutcase?” Abby asks, flipping the camera back to the front-camera.

_“Well, no, but I’ve not really had a reason to.”_

“Then how the _hell_ do you know it works, dumbass?” Abby says, confounded.

_“Well, the simulation for it worked. And that’s good enough for me.”_

“You’re a psycho!” Abby says, returning to the back camera.

“ _Thank you.”_ Holtzmann says, chuckling. “ _So yeah, what you wanna do is take Big Bob with you and blast the ghost’s ass. Take two shells, but be careful, they’re heavy, slow to load and you wanna be quite far away from it. Oh, and Bob is heavy as fuck.”_

“Big Bob?” Abby asks, laughing. “You named it ‘Big Bob’? Why?”

_“Cos he’s chunky. I dunno; seems to fit. Leave him alone. Don’t bully him!”_

“Holtzmann, you’re such a fucking freak.” Patty says, shaking her head and closing the lid of the box. “Okay, so we take this and then what?”

_“Blast his sorry ass. Get the paycheck and go home.”_

“We might not be paid.”

 _“Um, excuse me, bitch, we will be getting paid. We’re taking a fucking RPG to the … oh, hello officer, we’re just talking about ‘Call of Duty’. My friend is stuck in Germany, on the same level, so I’m telling her how to get out of the situation; by shooting the RPG at the German tank before it can shoot at her and kill her.”_ Holtzmann lies to the _Policier_ who has just appeared in view. He tilts his head, makes a non-verbal sound, shakes his head slowly and wanders off. “Okay, yeah, that was a close-call. I don’t want anyone to think we’re…” Holtzmann whispers. _“…terrorists. But, yes, take the RPG and shoot the ghost…”_ she speaks normally again. _“…and make sure we get paid. It’ll be at least $600 for taking out the Class VI with a weapon of that size and calibre. And if he complains, tell him, we can just as easily release another Class VI or above into his house and not deal with it. Also, we have rent coming up, and we’re still $1,500 short. Don’t forget it is $21,000 a month.”_

Abby and Patty sigh in unison and Holtzmann shrugs. “Alright, will do. Want a video too?”

_“Pfft, don’t be stupid, you’ll need both hands to operate it. Ohhh, no, wait. Yeah, Abby, you film it, Patty you shoot the spectre.”_

“Uh, why me, dude?”

_“You’re the strongest.”_

“Oh, okay, that-that’s fair. Done, sorted. Speak later gaymos.”

 _“A’ight. Love you Patty, love you Abby_.” Holtzmann says.

“Yeah, yeah.” Abby replies, rolling her eyes behind the phone.

“Love you too, man. And stay outta trouble, you hear me?”

 _“Yes Mom._” Holtzmann quips, and then hangs up.

“Man, we’re fucked.” Patty says and Abby just nods.


	35. Chapter 33

“They’re screwed, aren’t they?” Erin asks worriedly, as she pockets her phone.

“Weeeell….” You begin, drawing out the word.

“Holtzma—er, bert. Holtzbert!” Erin presses.

“They _could_ die. Buuut, they could also, _maybe_ , survive.”

“What the hell are the chances?”

“70/30.”

“Which one is which?!” Erin says, hands on hips, eyes wide.

“Uhhhm…”

“Holtz, I swear to God, I will kill you if you don’t tell me!”

“Well, there’s a 30% chance that…”

“ _Please_ don’t tell me that there’s a 30% chance they will _live!”_ Erin interrupts, frantically.

“Well, you see, 30% is being nice. I-it-it’s more like 29.005% survi—death, _death_ rate.”

“Uh-uh. No, no. You said 30% survival rate.”

“I meant _death_ rate.”

“Jillian!” Erin says sharply.

“Merde. Give me the phone, quick.” You unlock your phone and quickly navigate to Facebook Messenger and click on Abby’s name. You press the video call button and wait for her response. When she doesn’t immediately pick up, you begin pacing back and forth along the pavement muttering “Come on, come on, pick uuup!” to yourself. You hang up and circumnavigate a large decorative flower pot on the street before sitting on its edge and trying again.

Patty picks up, next to Abby in the Ecto. “ _Hell_ –”

“DO NOT TAKE BIG BOB! I REPEAT, DO NOT TAKE BIG BOB!” You shout at her before realising people are staring at you. You lower your voice, but speak with urgency. “I may have miscalculated and there’s a 30% chance you will survive! I thought it was a 70% survival and 30% death. Please for the love of God, and for our friendship, do not take it with you. Or if you’re already driving, leave it switched OFF in the Ecto-1B. Under no circumstances should you use it!”

 _“Uh, dude, you broke up. I heard 30% and it cut off._ ”

“30% survival rate.”

_“Oh, shit, you serious?!”_

“Unfortunately. Don’t use it, _please.”_

“ _Okay, man, we’ll leave it off in the back of the car_.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” You sigh loudly. “I fucked up.”

“ _Hey, man, don’t worry, you’ll fix it next time. Good job you rang us, but err, how are we gonna deal with the Class VI?”_

“You may have to cross the streams.”

“ _Aw hell naw!”_ You hear Abby say from the driver’s seat. “ _Uh-uh, no I ain’t crossing the streams with just the two of us. Can we leave it, do you think?”_

“Depends on its size, consistency and how negative its matter is. Do you know what it is?”

“ _Uhm, no, buuut we’re gonna find out.”_

“Okay, well good luck. We’re gonna continue being tourists. Don’t ring us, unless an emergency.”

“Holtz!” Erin snaps.

“Whaaat?!” You whine. “We’re here to have a good time, and see Paris. I love you guys, but this is supposed to be a relaxing vacation.”

“ _You’re a dick sometimes, Holtzy_.” Patty grumbles on FaceTime.

“Love you long time!” you say, in a strange accent.

“ _Yeeeeaaah, whatever_.” Patty says, before hanging up.

“Okay, so we’ve been standing here for so long, let’s go get something to eat, I’m starving.”

“You’ve not long had breakfast.”

“That was _hours_ ago.”

“Holtz, that was literally only an hour and a half ago. It’s not even 10am!

“What, really?”

“Yeah, we’re gonna go do something else. Let’s go to …” she pulls out a Tour Guide “…La tour Eiffel.”

“Yeah, let’s go do that. You’ve got the camera, right?”

“Yes, and the portable charges, and your lip balm, and tissues, and money, and our passports, and that Cheese Factory leaflet and whatever else you needed me to carry in this handbag.” She lifts it up to show you. “Why don’t you ever carry anything, Holtz? You’ve got pockets.”

“They ruin the shape of the bottoms.”

“Oh, don’t be so stupid.”

“Okay, well, because I don’t. I carry it all in my backpack, which you wouldn’t let me bring. Except my phone is in here…” you pat your right top pocket. “…and the hotel key is in here.” You tap your left butt cheek.

“Well, just don’t lose them.”

“And _that’s_ why you’re carrying everything else.”

“You really are like a child.”

“Well, in that case, you can hold my hand as we walk across the road.”

“I was going to do that anyway.” Erin says, cupping your face and kissing your forehead.

“Aww, morning forehead kisses. I’ve missed them.”

“You had one during sex, earlier.”

“Did I?”

“Yes, baby, you did.”

“Oh. Oh, cool.”

“ _How_ have you forgotten?” Erin asks. You shrug.

You cross the road holding hands and meander the colourful streets in the warm morning sun. You smile at Parisians and stop twice to ask for directions (Erin is adamant that “It isn’t that far, we don’t need directions”, but so far you have ended up at two dead-end streets, backing onto other buildings) Erin sighs, and gives up, asking for directions.

She spots a man sweeping outside his shop and approaches him. “Bonjour.” Erin says. You supress a laugh at her trying to ask in broken French, using a French-English vocabulary book she picked up at a small shop, whilst you were eyeing up the ice lollies.

You sidle over to her and pull the book from her hands. You fold it and drop it into her open handbag. “Salut. Nous cherchons la Tour Eiffel. Pouvez-vous nous donner les directions, s’il vous plaît?” **[i]** You ask the man in a crisp white button-down shirt.

“Si vous cherchez à marcher, ce sera une heure. Mais si vous continuez dans cette rue et tournez à gauche, il y a une station de taxis, ce qui prendra un peu plus de 20 minutes à la tour.” **[ii]**

“Ok, c’est génial, merci. Savez-vous à peu près combien cela va coûter?” **[iii]**

“Vous devrez demander au chauffeur. Passez une bonne journée, je dois retourner au travail.” **[iv]**

“Merci.” **[v]**

“Bon voyage, dames.” **[vi]**

You gently grab Erin’s wrist and lead her up the street. You walk with determination, and as you do so, Erin wriggles herself free.

“What’s the upshot?”

“Hours walk. 20 mins taxi ride.” You widen your strides to tackle the sloping cobblestone street and when you reach the top, you spin around to await Erin’s arrival. As soon as she is within a few feet, you take off again, whipping around to the left, and see the bright yellow taxis lined up, looking like chubby bumblebees, gleaming in the sun. You approach a man, wearing a flat cap and excuse yourself for interrupting his conversation. “Excusez-moi?” **[vii]**

The guy turns around and rubs his thick moustache. He is wearing a white cotton shirt and light-brown hessian trousers.

“Bonjour. Taxi?” **[viii]**

“Oui. J’attends juste un autre... Oh, ici elle est.” **[ix]**

“Combien pour nous deux Américains à la tour Eiffel, s’il vous plaît?” **[x]** You ask, as Erin catches up with you and breathes hard.

“Les Américains! Splendide! Je n’ai pas vu les Américains voyager depuis un moment. Et pour deux beautés, comme vous, je ferai pour vous à bon marche. 12€. C’est normalement 18-20€.” **[xi]**

“Merveilleux, merci.” **[xii]** You exclaim, clapping your hands and rooting in Erin’s handbag for your wallet.

“Ici, je vous donne ma carte. Je suis Givenchy. Je vais vous chercher lorsque vous êtes prêt. En fait, je vais te faire une affaire. 20 € pour tout le voyage. Comment qui sonne pour vous?” **[xiii]**

“Quelle bonne affaire! Merci Givenchy. Je suis Jillian et voici ma femme Erin.” **[xiv]**

The man takes off his flat cap and wipes his brow. “Laisse-moi deviner, c’est la lune de miel pour vous deux?” **[xv]**

“Oui, ça l’est. Désolé je ne sais pas pourquoi je vous l’ai dit” **[xvi]**

“Vous êtes heureux et avez de bonnes nouvelles à partager. Je suis heureux que vous me l’ayez dit et je vous offre mes félicitations et vos bénédictions.” **[xvii]**

You open the back door and hold it for Erin to clamber in and sit in the backseat. Once she has settled, and belted up, you shut the door and dash around to the right side and sit next to her. You pull the door to, then reopen it and close it properly, before belting up. Givenchy gets in the driver’s seat and turns over the engine. He puts the car into gear and presses the accelerator.

“And we’re on the gas.” You say, looking out of the window as the car pulls off down the street.

**_20 Minutes Later_ **

****

The taxi pulls up opposite the Eiffel Tower and you pay the fare before getting out. You pocket the business card and stare up at the impressive, looming, iron structure. As soon as Erin is by your side, Givenchy pulls away to go pick up the other passengers he got an alert for.

“This beauty was built in 1887, Er-bear.”

“Wow, is it the same structure as then, or has it undergone restoration?”

“Well, it was scheduled to be demolished in 1909, but here she is, still standing today. I think the _only_ changes she undergoes, is a new coat of paint every 7 years. I did some research, and it takes 3 years to paint the whole structure.”

“Woah, that’s impressive.”

“Yeah, and 60 tons of paint is used.”

“What?! That is a _lot._ ”

“Yeah, well put it this way. To paint a car, a professional would use six to seven quarts of paint. If one is inexperienced, it’ll need two or three coats, which is about two gallons, or 7.571 litres. The Eiffel Tower, which is a 324m structure, base to tip, is painted with 60 tons, as I said. So that translates to approximately 50,000 litres of paint. And if you wanna get more crazy, that 50,000 litres is a nice, um, doo-de-doo…” you click your tongue, pretending to work it out “…uhm, 10998.462 gallons; which isn’t _technically_ a real measurement, so we’ll stick with 50,000 litres of paint every 7 years.

“You’re such a nerd, and Mathematician.”

“Well, you should know how much Maths you require to be a physicist.”

“True. How do you know all of this?”

“Science. And I read.”

“Yeah, you have your nose buried in a book almost as much as I do. Right, enough of a Maths lesson, let’s go join the queue and experience the vast views from the balcony.”

You nod and work your way towards the ever-thickening throng of people congregating by the ticket booth. You stop dead, fear rising in your chest.

“You okay, bub?”

“Uhm, yeeeah.” You lie. You take a few deep breaths and mumble incoherently to yourself. Without warning, you stride off and march towards the ‘Fast Track’ queue. Erin jogs to catch up to you.

“We don’t have fast track passes, sweetie.”

“Can’t we buy them?”

“I don’t know.”

“Yeah, you can buy them here.” A gruff male voice retorts.

“Oh, excellent. Thanks, man.” You say to the burly man. He nods at you and resumes biting his fingernails. “Gross.” You say under your breath. Erin rolls her eyes and nudges you forward as the line moves up. You shuffle forwards and ignore the loud, deep belch from the guy biting his fingernails. You see Erin wrinkle her nose.

You finally understand why it is called the ‘Fast Track’ lane, because in less than five minutes, you’re at the front, asking for two tickets to the first level. As Erin starts to wander towards the elevator, you purchase another two to the very topmost floor and shove them into your pocket, before joining Erin.

****

**_Back in New York_ **

****

Patty sighs at the prospect of tackling a Class VI with half the team and half the equipment. Abby had grabbed the four Proton Grenade slings and dumped them in the boot alongside their two Proton Packs, but it just didn’t seem enough. As Abby pulls up on the street opposite the man’s house, Patty sighs again and Abby switches off the engine.

“What’s up, Patty? You don’t seem your normal jovial self.”

“We’re in way over our head, Abs.” Patty says, undoing her seatbelt.

“How do you mean?” Abby says, turning to face Patty in her seat, still belted up.

“Well, I just thought this was gonna be like a book club. Play some Stevie Nicks albums, you know? It’s just I don’t understand how I get wrapped up in this stuff. I had a good job at the MTA. Was it perfect? No, of course it wasn't perfect. But I tell you what, everybody was alive.”

“Well, you’re a valuable member of the team, Patty. Trust me. We wouldn’t have been able to take on half the jobs had you not leant us your Uncle’s car.”

“You couldn’t keep lugging that heavy equipment up the stairs. Did Holtz ever manage to make them lighter?”

“Well, remember the Mark I Pack that we had in the subway? That was the same sort of machine she had at Saint Paul’s Cathedral back in 2001, when she was 16 and partially blew up the Cathedral; or so she told me, in a rather proud manner. I know she had to lug it up a few flights of stairs, so she decided to develop a lightweight polymer substitute.”

“Oh, shit. So how long have you two been friends? When did you meet?”

“2007, at the Kenneth P. Higgins.”

“So, you’re besties?”

“Yup. I’ve put up with her shit for the last 16 years. I grew up in Rochester, just outside Detroit and met Erin during my junior year of Hoover High School, around 1991. She and I both got accepted into the University of Michigan in 1993. Erin and I were best friends during University, and we both graduated with Bachelors of Science in Physics in 1996. After our graduation, Erin got accepted into Princeton and I stayed in Michigan to attend grad School; over the summer we wrote our book.”

“So how did you get into Kenneth P. Higgins?”

“That’s the best part. I worked on a dual degree in Astronomy and Physics at Michigan, earned my PhD at Yale, of all places, and then became a professor of Paranormal Studies at the Kenneth P. Higgins Institute of Science. That’s where I met Holtz, when she was a 22 year old and an associate professor.”

“So you and Erin have been friends for how long?”

“At this point, 31 years; so you could say we’re family.”

“Shit, man, that’s impressive. I lost contact with my childhood friend of 17 years about five years ago. Anyway, so going back…polymer substitute?”

“Ah, yes, I digressed. Yeah, so in 2001 Holtz hefted a huge and heavy Proton Pack up the stairs before deciding to develop a lighter version, which was added to the top of the cart – Mark I. Mark II was eventually made from polymer, carbon fibre, metal – which I believe are meters, cranks, lead to stop radiation, gearboxes, plastic, dials, switches, um, stuff for insulation to stop electrical power surges and hose clamps – with an extortionate amount of wiring and LED lights. The Packs were mounted to an A.L.I.C.E frame, which comes with cotton canvas straps; much like those on a backpack, and then she added the oversized Shock Blaster, thus creating Mark III. The first one was around 50 pounds; Mark II was 20.5 pounds and now, with the added Shock Blaster, I think the Mark IIIs are roughly 30 pounds.”

“Quite a considerable difference then, even with all the crap attached!”

“Definitely; I’m glad Holtzy is always tinkering and adapting the equipment. Although, I don’t think she can get them any lighter than 20.5 pounds.”

“I still think we’re in over our heads. Like, how we gon’ get this Class VI without the proper equipment.”

“It’ll be a struggle, but it won’t be impossible.”

“You hope.”

“Yeah, I hope. Come on, let’s stop dawdling and go get this son of a bitch!”

The pair hops out the car and head to the rear of it to get their equipment and weapons. Patty slings two of the Grenade holsters over her shoulders, crossing them in the middle, before hoisting her Pack on to her back. Abby does the same, in a less-than-graceful manner; getting tangled with the Neutrona Wand wires in the process. Patty helps her untangle herself and once ready, Abby locks the car, and they jog off, leaving Ecto-1B behind them.

As they run, Abby pulls out her PKE Meter, switches it on and waits for it to load up. With their deep red glow, the closed spines spin slowly and the readout emits a steady beep. With her head buried in the screen, trying to locate the ghoul, Abby runs dangerously close to a lamppost and Patty has to pull her to the left.

She pulls to a stop, and Patty, who still hasn’t released her, yelps as her arm is jerked forwards. The red LED light pulsates in time to the beeps and Abby tries to focus on that. “Sorry about that Patty.” Abby says, absentmindedly. She huffs and focuses on the on-screen map. The beeps began to increase rapidly, and the spines spread out and whizz around at a ridiculous speed; threatening to fall off the base. “Woah, hold your ponies.” Abby says, imitating Holtzmann at the Aldridge Mansion.

“Ah, man.” Patty says, bringing her hands up to her ears.

“Yeah, mine popped too. Which is weird, because we’re outside.”

“What the hell is that?”

“That’ll be an AP-xH shift.”

“A what?”

“An auditory shift, like when you’re 37,000 feet in the air on an aeroplane. The air high above the surface of Earth is less dense than air near the surface, because surface air has all the air above it pressing down. The high altitude affects the air trapped inside your inner ear as the atmospheric pressure changes; hence ear pops.”

“So what does altitude got to do with ghosts?”

“There’s no correlation, other than the experience of TTS – ‘Temporary Threshold Shift’, which happens in planes, is the same when there are ghosts nearby. There’s a ghost nearby; but this normally happens _indoors.”_

“So what does ‘Temporary Threshold Shift’ actually mean?”

“TTS is auditory fatigue, which is when there is a temporary loss of hearing after exposure to sound. This results in a temporary shift of the auditory threshold; TTS. If there’s no time, or not enough time for healing, or there’s tinnitus within the inner ear, there is the potential of PTS – ‘Permanent Threshold Shift’, which is essentially going deaf. However, if this loss of hearing is from a traumatic, ore repeated event, then it is classified as Noise-Induced Hearing Loss, or NIHL. So, for example, if factory workers work without ear defenders, daily, they may experience NIHL. AP-xH is just a classification of TTS, specifically linked to ghosts.”

At that moment there is a low growl from behind them. They slowly turn inwards, so they make eye contact with each other, before rotating to face the growler. “Oh, cream and sugar!” Abby says, pulling her Proton Gun from its magnetic holster. It whirs as it powers up. Pointing the barrel at it, she waits for Patty’s gun to be in position, before hitting the trigger button.

The red stream of positively charged ions bursts out of the end and hits the ghost in the chest, who roars in agony. The two fight with the ghost as it zips to the other side of the street, trying to avoid the painful red light. The girls chase it up and down the street, hitting lampposts, and parts of the pavement. They zap him and stop to launch a Proton Grenade at him. It explodes within seconds of being released and a window shatters.

“Shit.” Abby says. She guns the ghost again, whilst Patty launches another grenade, slightly further to the left. As it hits the kerb, it bounces upwards, and into the road, before it _bangs_ leaving a scorch mark on the road.

They continue shooting at the ghost, until hitting a lamppost. Sparks fly in a variety of directions from the lamppost and one more hit, sends it careening forwards in the direction of the Ecto. Patty and Abby stop, grimace and inhale through their teeth, watching in horror as the lamppost begins its descent. Abby puts her hands to the side of her face and Patty’s jaw drops. They collectively hold their breath, but miraculously the lamppost misses the bonnet of the car, by a mere three inches. They exhale a sigh of relief, and immediately turn their attention to the ghost, which is taunting them from atop a house.

“Fuck.” Abby says, holstering her weapon. “Unless the bastard comes down, we’re not gonna have him.”

“So what, we just leave him?”

“Oh, no, spoken too soon.” Abby says pulling at the Proton Gun again, as the ghost hurtles at them with incredulous speed and precision.

“Aw, to hell with this, man!” Patty exclaims, aggressively thumbing the trigger button. She grimaces again as the stream reaches the phantom and he roars deeply again.

Abby flicks the switch on the Proton Gun and hears the box beep. The screen, which Holtzmann placed in the centre of the box, now reads ‘ _Shock Blaster’._ “Hope this fucker likes electricity.” Abby says, before hitting the trigger button and zapping the ghost with thousands of volts in one bomb-like explosion. The kickback is immediately noticeable and the gun launches itself upwards for a brief moment, before Abby manoeuvres it downwards and aims it at the ghost’s head. “PATTY! SWITCH SETTINGS!” Abby yells over the noise of the Shock Blaster hitting the target and the spectre roaring for a third time. Evidently, Holtzmann’s tinkering has resulted in a smaller kickback, but still more powerful than the Proton Stream, but at least it has not thrown them to the ground with a shockwave.

The Class VI is resisting the blasts and Patty has to hit it once more in the chest, before Abby and Patty aim and get ready to shoot at the same time.

“On the count of three. One … two …”

“Wait, on three or after three?”

“After three, we press the button.”

“Okay, got it.”

“One …two … three!” Abby says. As soon as the last word is out of her mouth, the two punch the button down hard. Two Shock Blasts erupt from the guns; collide with each other, creating a large and visible blue ball of surging electricity, before spinning rapidly, and crackling with the power. It flies into the head of the ghost, which lets out a bloodcurdling scream, before the entity explodes, sending electricity and Slime flying in every direction. As soon as the audible _poof_ is heard, Abby and Patty drop to the cold floor, to avoid as much Slime as possible, but they still manage to get covered head-to-toe in thick snot-coloured goo.

“Hadokken." Abby mutters. And Patty laughs.

“Yeeeeaaah! We did it. Eat shit, Class VI!”

The girls lie on the floor staring up at the white clouded sky until a shadowed face obscures their view. A man is looking down on them and they sit up, and then immediately clamber awkwardly to their feet.

“Hello. I’m sorry to interrupt your siesta, but I would just like to thank you for getting rid of my ghost problem.” The elderly man says.

“Hey, it’s no bother.” Patty says, cheerily.

“Although, I was lead to believe that there were four of you. Have the other two disbanded?”

“Uh, no, they’re on their honeymoon.”

“Ah, my congratulations to them, I fully support the LGBT Community. If you would like to come over to my house, I can offer you tea and biscuits, whilst I sort out your payment.”

“But, er, we’re covered in Slime, dude.”

“Ah, yes, but I saw you floor yourselves, so I am making the assumption that your bottoms are clean, from being lead down on your backs.”

“True, man, true. A’ight, we’ll come in, but I’ll have a coffee though.”

“Certainly. This way, ladies.” He says, before shuffling off towards a house on the left hand side of the street.

“Uh, sorry, can we just put our equipment away?”

“Oh, of course. Sorry, how rude of me. Please, by all means, put your equipment away safe. Oh, I shall ring my grandson about removing the lamppost as well. He is a City Worker.”

After locking the boot door, Patty unbuttons her jumpsuit and ties it around her waist. Her t-shirt, emblazoned with the Rolling Stones tongue, is damp from sweat, but at least it isn’t Slime-covered. “Hang on.” She suddenly says. “Man, I got skinny jeans on under this. I can take my overalls off. Abby whatchu got on underneath?”

“Jeans and that long red top. And my green trench coat is in the car.” Abby says, unlocking the end-loader door.

“Perfect, let’s just dump our overalls in the back and head on in. Erm, what number are you, sir?”

“182, it’s just up here on the left. I’ll leave the front door open.”

“Thank you!” Abby calls as he wanders off.

They quickly get their overalls off and dump them over the Packs, before Abby slams the door shut, much to Patty’s annoyance, and locks it. They stride towards the door and head inside.

Shutting the door behind them, Abby calls to the man. “Uh, hey. Thanks for inviting us in.”

“Hello.” The man says, appearing in a doorway. He approaches and gestures inside the sitting room to their left. It is furnished with carpets, curtains and sofas from the 60s and there are two porcelain dogs either side of the fireplace. Sitting on the two-seater, the girls look about them as the man disappears again.

“Wow, think he’s been here for a long time. Those are some real 60s thinks. My grandma has those dogs.” Abby says, pointing at them.

The man re-enters, with 2 cups of tea and one cup of coffee, on saucers, on a tray. Patty gets up and looks for coasters, whilst Abby pulls the small side-table in front of them. She places it central to the sofa and sits back down.

“Oh, you mustn’t worry about coasters; I’ve brought them on saucers.” He sets down the coffee and a tea, before sitting in his armchair. The lace square, which was resting over the top of the armchair, falls to the floor and Patty stands to pick it up. She replaces it and smiles at the man. “Oh, thank you, thank you. That was my late wife’s. She made lots of square lace placemats. This one is just here for decoration, and because it feels nice on the back of my head.” The man sighs, thinking of his wife, and a tear begins to form. He blinks several times, before sipping at his tea. Closing his eyes, he lets the hot liquid run down his throat, for a moment, before setting the cup down on his side-table and clambering to his feet. “Right, biscuits. Let me go and get them, and then I’ll get my chequebook.” He disappears once more, and the girls here him clattering about in the kitchen, muttering to himself. He announces his re-entry with humming and slowly lowers himself into the seat, knocking the table, and sloshing tea over the saucer in the process. “Whoopsies.” He says, before settling into the linen fabric surface. He produces a chequebook from his pocket and picks up a Biro from the table. Scrawling on the page, he licks the tip of the pen, as the ink is running out, and continues writing. He hands it to Patty, who graciously accepts it. “Is $6,000 enough?”

Patty stutters, so Abby speaks. “Sir, we can’t take this much.”

“Oh, hush, hush. I want you to have it all. For whatever you need it for; bills, food, gas. Take it. You’ve helped me out and now I shan’t be plagued by my ill-tempered brother. I take it that he had another hapless demise, and wasn’t captured? Hence all the Slime.”

“Yes, sir. I hope the prospect wasn’t to capture him?”

“Oh, good heavens no! I wanted him gone for good. I know that sounds horrible, but I am resentful of his manners and behaviour and his lack of empathy towards others, so I’m glad that he has gone for good.”

“Well, okay then. Glad we could help.” Patty says, folding and pocketing the cheque. They hurriedly finish their beverages and get to their feet. “Before we go, I have to ask, have you lived here long?”

“Actually, my wife Mary and I moved her 56 years ago.”

“Wow, that’s a long time.”

“Yes, she died two years ago, and I was rather hoping she would come and visit me. Perhaps she will, now that Albert has gone. Oh, where are my manners! I’m Gregory.”

“Patty and this is Abby.”

“Pleasure. And the other two?”

“Jillian and Erin.”

“Well, please pass on my exuberant congratulations to the couple, and may their future together, and yours for that matter, be rich, blessed and humble. Thank you for your services and thank you for staying to chat to an old man like me. I’ll be 91 this year, did you know?”

“Well, happy birthday for then and you’ve done well for yourself. I would have guessed 80-something.” Patty says, shaking his hand at the front door. Abby does the same, before they step out into the street.

“Oh, you’re too kind. I’m still fit and active and regularly attend dance classes with some other retirees and I love walking my grandson’s beagle when they come to visit. Anyway, you must get on. Good day, goodbye and good tidings!” Gregory says, waving them off as they wander towards Ecto. They stop to wave back, before hurrying to the car as the first large raindrops begin to fall.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**French to English Translations:**

**[i]** "Hi. We are looking for the Eiffel Tower. Can you give us directions, please?"

 **[ii]** "If you want to walk, it will be an hour. But if you continue on this street and turn left, there is a taxi station, which will take a little more than 20 minutes to the tower."

 **[iii]** "Ok, that's great, thank you. Do you know roughly how much it will cost?"

 **[iv]** "You have to ask the driver. Have a good day, I have to go back to work."

 **[v]** “Thank you.”

 **[vi]** “Have a good trip, ladies.”

 **[vii]** “Excuse me?”

 **[viii] **“Hello, taxi?”

 **[ix]** "Yes. I expect just another... Oh, here she is."

 **[x]** "How much for two Americans to the Eiffel Tower, please?”

 **[xi]** “The Americans! Splendid! I have not seen Americans traveling for a while. And for two beauties, like you, I will do to you cheap. €12. It is normally € 18-20.”

 **[xii]** “Wonderful, thank you.”

 **[xiii]** “Here, I give you my card. I'm Givenchy. I'll get you when you're ready. In fact, I'll make you a deal. €20 for the whole trip. How does that sound to you?”

 **[xiv]** "What a bargain! Thank you Givenchy. "I'm Jillian this is my wife Erin."

 **[xv]** "Let me guess, it's the honeymoon for you two?"

 **[xvi]** "Yes, it is. Sorry I don't know why I told you"

 **[xvii]** "You are happy and have good news to share. I am glad you said it to me and I offer you my congratulations and blessings."


	36. Chapter 34

Erin stands precariously close to the edge and even with the high fences surrounding this floor; it’s enough to make you nervous and your heart starts thumping violently against your ribcage. “Erin, sweetie, please, please come away from there.”

“Jillian, I’m fine. There’s a glass wall which goes around on one side, and there’s multiple fences, even tall ones; taller than Patty.” You inhale deeply and make your way towards her, where the floor goes from concrete to glass. The sun glints off the glass and you catch a glimpse of the world below you. You gasp and freeze. Your heart continues thumping and you’re sure that everyone around you can hear it.

Erin approaches you and reaches out to hold your sweaty and shaking hand. “Hey, you’re okay. You’re okay.” You stare into her eyes, with your own wide, showing the whites larger than your deep blue eyes. She squeezes your hand reassuringly and doesn’t let it go, until it stops shaking. In this moment, you know that you are safe, and you breathe deeply to slow your anxious heart. The speed slows to its normal resting pace and, still crushing Erin’s fingers, you risk another look downwards. Your stomach does a flip as you realise how high up you are, and you get a sudden surge of adrenaline – your Fight, Flight or Freeze mode kicking in. You’ve frozen once already, but this time you allow yourself to look, still hanging on to Erin for dear life. You gasp again, but this time in wonderment and not out of fear.

“It’s breath-taking.” You whisper, having never been up here before. “Erin, look.” You say, pointing with your free hand as your face lights up.

“I am looking, sweetie. She is breath-taking. The most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”

You look up to find her staring at you, like a love sick puppy; like the first time she truly looked at you. She grins, but keeps her gaze fixed on you. You blush and squeeze her hand back, before letting it go as you’ve noticed her fingertips are a different colour.

“How’s your myocardium?” she asks, nerding it up.

“Well my pulse has returned to normal, so I’m definitely not having a cardiac arrest; although, I do think you give me heart palpitations, each time I look at you. Seriously, it flutters and skips a beat every damn time.”

“Well, good job I’m a Doctor.”

“Oh, yes, I know I’m definitely in good hands with a Doctor of _Physics_.” You reply, with one of your cheeky winks.

She boops your snoot saying “boop” as she does so, before pulling you close for a tender kiss. Your breath catches and your heart jumps at the contact; it’s even more romantic up the Eiffel Tower.

Renowned for its romance and its beautiful language – the Language of Love – it’s hard to not fall in love all over again, whilst standing on one of France’s most iconic landmarks. You fake swoon into her arms, and she catches you before you dramatically fan your face with your hand. “Ah, ma femme, how kind of you to catch me from falling head over heels at your tender caress.” You say, theatrically and camply.

She rights you and spins you outwards, before spinning you inwards again. “Don’t you worry, doll, I’ll always be there to catch you when you fall.” She says, before giggling at her cheesiness. You kiss her passionately again and her tongue finds her way into your mouth, making your knees weak.

As you enjoy this moment, a slow clap begins in the vicinity. A second pair of hands joins in and soon, there is a small crowd around you, clapping enthusiastically at your gratuitous performance. You both smile meekly before you bow and Erin curtsies. You giggle to yourselves and then you address the audience. “Thank you, oh you’re too kind, too kind.” You pause for a moment, to regain seriousness. “Just a quick one, why are we being clapped?”

The crowd disperses leaving a man in jeans and t-shirt, who replies in a European accent. “Your façade was wonderful and quite romantique.” He smiles at you and takes off his sunhat, tipping it towards you and beaming. “I felt drawn in by your presence; I hope that isn’t too weird?”

“No, just a little unexpected. Hi I’m Erin, and this is my wife, Jillian.” She looks at you. “Sorry, I just _love_ saying that … _wife_. Oh God, I can’t believe we got married a few days ago.”

“I know, I wake up every day and think ‘I married my soulmate and the love of my life.’ And I know I’ve done very well for myself, cos you’re a stunner. God, I love a redhead…and blondes…but, but yeah.” You grin sheepishly.

“You’re such a dork.”

“I know; I’m proud of that. And being a nerd. And a scientist.”

“ _With_ a PhD.” Erin stresses playfully.

“Heh. Yeah, and one of those too. Dr. Holtzbert.”

“Well, congrats and have a good day.” The man says, before thrusting his hat back on his head, at an angle, and disappearing into the crowd.

“You married your soulmate, huh?”

“Yes, I did. I did tell you that when I proposed to you.”

“I know you did, babe, I do remember, I just wanted to hear you say it again.”

“Soulmate, love of my life, wife, gorgeous, kind, caring, passionate, loving, sensual, sexy, brilliant, intelligent, wholesome… I could go on and on and on.”

“Save that sexy talk for later. Let’s go and have lunch, it’s actually gone midday!”

“Dear Lord! Already! Well, there’s the restaurant here.” You idly gesture in its direction. She holds your hand, fingers laced, and you walk in step towards the automatic doors.

_Three hours later_

Having had a mountain of food and at least two bottles of House Chardonnay, you’re lying on the bed, back at the hotel, staring at the lights on the ceiling. The lightbulbs are in flower-shaped rests and the three golden stems curve in J shapes from the centre of the fixture. The lights swim in and out of view as the alcohol obscures your vision and your senses.

Erin is somewhere in the room, you think, but you cannot see, nor hear her. “Babe?” you call, your voice sounding distant and detached. There’s no reply. “Babe?” you call, slightly louder this time. You can hear the faint sound of a Hoover, somewhere along the corridor, but nothing else filters into your ears.

You attempt to sit up, but your head lurches, so you lie back down again. You put all your weight on to your left side, and roll off the bed, barely missing the side of the bedside cabinet, before thumping like deadweight onto the carpet, just as Erin walks through the door.

“Shit, honey!” She calls, running to your aid. She dumps the small plastic shopping bags on the bed and kneels down by your side. She taps the side of your face, but you don’t feel it, having knocked yourself out by the force. Erin musters all her strength, to fireman’s lift you, before deciding against it and putting you back down again. It’s not that you’re particularly heavy, just that Erin isn’t particularly strong up-top. She places you into the recovery position and gets a glass of water, before emptying the wastepaper bin and putting it near your head in case you need to throw up.

The minutes tick by and you’re still out cold, panic begins to rise from the pit of Erin’s stomach. She grabs the room phone and dials the reception.

“Bonjour.”

“Uh, hello. Do you speak English?”

“Non, je ne pas parlais Anglais.” The lady says, before passing the phone to one of her colleagues.

There is a moment of silence, before a man speaks. “Hello.” The man says in a French accent. “How can I help?”

“Uhm, my wife is knocked out and she’s not responding. I think we need an ambulance.”

“Oh, no, I’m sorry to hear that. What room are you?”

“Superior Suite, Holtzbert.”

“Ah, yes we have you. I will telephone for an ambulance and one of the hotel staff will be up to assist you; actually, I will be there in a few moments. Let me telephone the ambulance.”

Within five minutes, the man from the reception is knocking on your door. Erin gets up to open it and indicates to where you are lying.

“What happened?”

“I think she fell out of the bed. I came in, just as she hit the floor and the force must have knocked her out.”

“Has this happened before?”

“She often bumps her head, she’s been out a fair few times and she’s had a mild concussion too.”

“Oh, dear, this is not good. The ambulance is on its way.”

Erin and the manager here voices in the corridor, and Erin goes to greet the paramedics. “Hi, yes, we’re in here.”

The main paramedic, a female, with her brunette hair up in a bun, exchanges French words with the manager before turning to Erin. “Hello there. Can you tell us what happened, miss?”

“Well, I came in just as she fell to the floor, so she must have rolled off the bed. It’s a wonder she missed the bedside cabinet.”

“Okay, Pascal, write that down please. Okay, miss, I am going to ask you a few questions. If you could please remain calm and answer them as best you can, whilst my colleagues attend to the patient. Please, sit down, it will help you to calm down.” The lady says, with a kind, but authoritarian voice. “What is her name?”

“Dr Jillian Holtzmann … Sorry, Holtzbert.”

“Holtzbert?”

“Yes, we’re married.”

“Okay. And what is her date of birth?”

“6 January 1985, this makes her 37.”

“Okay, does she suffer from loss of consciousness?”

“If you mean is it regular, then no.”

“Okay. Has this happened before?”

“Yes, several times, and she’s had a mild concussion, which resulted in her being angry and violent, but I think that was also a result of the kidnapping.”

“Kidnapping?”

“Oh God, it’s a long story.”

“In this case, it is irrelevant. Is she on any medication?”

“No, but probably should be for her ADHD.”

“Okay, so she has ADHD. Any other medical conditions?”

“Asperger’s Syndrome, which is on the Autistic Spectrum.”

“This is good information to know. Thank you.” She speaks in French to Pascal and the manager, before you, with an oxygen mask on your face, is placed on a stiff board, strapped down and taken towards the elevator at the far end of the corridor.

Erin switches out the lights, grabs the key card, her phone and money, before closing the hotel door and triple-checking the handle. She follows the manager down the stairs and catches a glimpse of his name badge. “Thank you for your help, Jacques.”

“It’s no problem, miss. Is there anything else I can help you with? A reduction of your room price? A free meal for two?”

“Honestly, it wasn’t your fault; I think it’s from the two bottles of wine we shared at the Eiffel Tower.”

“Ah, you should mention that to Sara.”

“Yes, I better had.” Erin says, before meeting up with the ambulance crew and following them outside. “I should mention, that this could also be to do with the wine we had earlier.”

“How much wine?” Sara asks, unimpressed.

“Two bottles of House Chardonnay, up the Eiffel Tower.” Pascal scribbles it down in his notepad. When you all arrive at the ambulance, the paramedics load you into the back of the ambulance and onto a gurney, before Erin climbs in the back and sits on one of the fold-out wall chairs. Sara glares at Erin in stony silence before slamming the back doors and making her way round to the driver’s cabin.

With sirens blaring, and lights flashing, the ambulance rushes towards Paris’s oldest hospital – L’Hôtel-Dieu. It weaves in and out of traffic; some of the cars pull over to the side of the road, and some, in a state of panic, just slam on the breaks, partially blocking the route.

There is a frustrated grunt from Sara up front, as she slams her fist into the horn. “Je jure devant Dieu que si ces voitures ne bougent pas, je vais casser les rétroviseurs avec les flancs de l'ambulance.”

“Tu devrais le faire quand même. Après nous allons à l'hôpital, nous devons assister à un accident de la route.”

“Deux voitures ou une voiture et une moto?”

“Une voiture et une moto.”

“Oh, merde. C'est mauvais. Ce travail ne devient pas plus facile, Stefan.”

“Non, mais chaque jour est différent et enrichissant.”

“C'est vrai. Comment va votre femme?”

“Elle va bien, merci.”

“Comment va votre chat?”

“Félix va bien, merci. Il a eu sa fourrure taillée récemment. Nous parlons encore, Stefan. Peut-être devrions-nous écouter la radio.”

“Je suis d'accord. Musique classique ou pop?”

“Ah, classique bien sûr.”

“Pascal, comment tu vas l’as bas? Et le patient ? Comment va-t’elle?

“Je vais bien, merci. Le patient est toujours inconscient, mais pas d'autres problèmes.”

“Bien. Nous ne sommes pas loin maintenant. Dites à Mme Holtzbert que nous sommes à cinq minutes.”

A worried Erin listens to the conversation, understanding the words for ‘ambulance’, ‘moto’, ‘classic’ and ‘music’, thanks to her French phrases book. The in-between stuff she hasn’t grasped, which is just as well really, because she is so nervous, she probably would have vomited.

Pulling up outside the ambulance, they all bundle out in quick succession and you’re wheeled into the reception area. Erin gives her full name and your full name and explains the situation, whilst the ambulance crew go to deal with the road accident. Once she has done so, she takes a seat as you are wheeled away through the double doors by one man in a long white coat, and three Doctors in scrubs, one of which is hand-pumping the bulbous rubber bag to push oxygen into your lungs to avoid brain damage.

Erin can’t sit still and she begins pacing up and down the reception area. She sits down, bounces her knee, taps her foot on the floor, wrings her hands and stands up again; all things you do when you’re nervous. Her anxiety is kicking in and she begins to panic. Clutching her chest, she doubles over, struggling to breathe and a female nurse comes to help her.

“Are you okay?” she asks, as Erin gasps for breath. “Okay, okay, let’s sit you down.” She helps Erin to a chair. “Okay, now I need you to breathe for me, and with me.” She says in a British accent. “Okay, breathe in … and breathe out … and in … and out.” Erin breathes with her and as much as she is irritated that a young 20-something is telling her how to breathe, she understands that it is helping and eventually she regains her breath.

“Sorry, I was having a panic attack.”

“I know, I have them too. Are you okay now?”

“Yeah, I should be. Sorry, I’m frightened. Is she gonna be okay?”

“Who?”

“The blonde who was wheeled in?”

“I can ask the question, but I don’t know myself as I’m a trainee nurse.”

“Can I ask, if you’re British, why are you working over here?”

“I spent a year studying abroad, as part of my degree, and my boyfriend lives here and now that I’ve graduated, I’ve moved in with him, so I work here as it’s close to home. And you’re American?”

“Yes, I live together in New York City, with my other half. She’s from Long Island, New York and I was born in Black Creek, Detroit.”

“What do you do?” the nurse asks.

“Oh, well I was a Professor at Columbia University. I taught Particle Physics, but now I’m a Ghostbuster.”

“A Ghostbuster?” She asks, disbelievingly.

“Yes, we hunt ghosts.”

“So, it’s a hobby?”

“No, it’s a career. We study the paranormal, and try to capture ghosts, to bring back to the lab to study, or we bust them, if they’re a big enough threat.”

“Oh, okay. So the blonde is your partner?”

“Yes, she is. We’ve known each other for 6 years, and started dating 4 years ago, and now we have been married for three days.”

“Wow, that’s awesome.”

“Yeah, I’ve told so many people that she’s my wife. I don’t think I’ll ever tire of calling her that.”

“Well, me and Thomas have been dating for 2 years and 4 months tomorrow.”

“Well, that’s exciting. Are you happy and in love?”

“Yes, I love him so much. I think he might be The One, but we’re taking it slow, so we both know for sure.”

“Sounds like a good plan to me.” Erin says, crossing her left leg over her right knee.

“So, how did you she was The One?”

“I didn’t at first. My boyfriend Phil and I dated for several years, but he was very critical of my research and chose to divulge his attention to his students. And when I got fired from Columbia, one of my most humiliating moments, I walked down the corridor and he flat out ignored me. And then he belittled me in the streets about my professional ghostbusting work. Holtzmann would flirt with me, but I, of course, was none the wiser, but Abby and Patty knew. Then one day she danced for me, and then we saved New York City from ghosts, and I threw myself into a portal after Abby, my best friend, and I heard that Holtzmann was pretty devastated by that, because she had a super big crush on me by that point. And we just closer during work and then one day she just kissed me, and I liked it and then she flirted more relentlessly than ever before and then we just kinda hooked up and she never fails to make me smile. She can be childish and ditzy and her apartment is as messy as her desk, but without her, nothing would be possible. She’s the genius behind all our weapons and equipment. But I knew that I wanted to get to know her more and then one day, I just asked her out, and that’s when all the fun started…”

“You mean all the hot sex?” the nurse inappropriately interrupts.

“Yes, the, ahem, _sex_.” Erin says, flushing red. “And so we started dating, and I was a bit scared as I had never dated a female before; but I was bi-curious in high School and Abby and I had a moment, which wasn’t too bad. And then I got to University and did some experimenting, which I quite enjoyed, but it never went any further than kissing, until Holtz.”

“So she took your gay virginity.”

“Yes, she did.”

“Yeah, I lost mine at 18. And I’m only 22 now.”

“What your virginity or your gay one?”

“Both.”

“Ah, first time was with a girl then?”

“Yes, my first girlfriend. It was good, she was lovely, but then I tried with a guy and realised that’s what I liked. Well, obviously you prefer women.”

“Yano, I was trying to get into our receptionist, Kevin. I’m still very bisexual, but I think I’m hella gay for Holtz.”

“That happens.”

“But I would never leave her to go back to guys; even if we didn’t get married. I love her too much. We’ve saved each other’s lives, multiple times.”

“Man, if that ain’t love, I don’t know what is. Let me go check on her. Do you want a coffee?”

“Yes please.”

“Alright, I’ll bring you one back.”

“Thanks, err…”

“Becky.

“Right. Thanks, Becky. I’m Erin, by the way.”

“Coolio. See you in a mo!”

_Fifteen Minutes Later_

You wake up in a large room. Your mouth is dry and you have the horrible taste of saline on your tongue. You turn to see a Doctor in a long flowing white coat standing next to the heartrate monitor, which is attached to your index finger.

Your voice is raspy as you speak. “Hey Doc. What’s the news?”

“Bonjour Jillian.” Dr. Barnabas replies.

“Urgh, no offence, but I’m too tired to speak French. My head hurts.”

“No, I speak English.”

“Oh, thank God.”

“The MRI results shows that although you suffered a mild concussion, there are no signs of a brain haemorrhage or permanent damage”

“Well that’s good news.”

“Yes, but when you fell off the bed, you missed the edge of the cabinet, but not the corner. It was a heavy impact, which knocked you out for quite some time, it also lacerated the side of your head, and we have put in 6 stitches. We also noticed, from the scan, a small fracture at the back of your skull, perhaps from a previous trauma.”

“Yeah, I fell off a chair on to concrete.”

“That does not sound good.”

“It bloody hurt.”

The Doctor shakes his head and continues. “And from what your partner told us, this is the second concussion you have had and you’ve been unconscious about four—”

“Seven.”

“Seven?”

“Yes, I’ve been knocked out six times before this one.”

“What on earth do you do?”

“Um, well, I had a car crash, and my head went through the side window, I was out then, then the ambulance gave me morphine and that knocked me out, then they gave me an anaesthetic, I was drugged with chloroform – long story – punched and kicked multiple times in the head, I’ve fallen off a chair, smacked my head on concrete and passed out again. Oh, and I’ve passed out during sex. And now I guess the cabinet.”

“Well, the good news is that the morphine and anaesthetic only put you to sleep. And passing out during sex; I’ve never heard of that one.”

“Held my breath too long.”

“And why didn’t you breathe?”

“Yano how it is…pleasurable, takes your breath away…that sort of thing.”

“I see, I shall not press further.”

“Okay, so seven times unconscious and two concussions. Not bad.”

“No, quite bad. I am surprised you haven’t had any more concussions, or brain damage.”

“Just to be clear, this is only my second concussion in about two and a half, three years. I mean the other events happened within a few months, eh, let’s face it, the chloroform, punches, kicks and dropped off a chair was in the same week; probably within a couple of days of each other. I was lucky to be seen so quickly, considering I was in a prison, after being kidnapped, but I didn’t die, so there’s that.”

The Doctor raises an eyebrow, but decides against delving into that subject matter. “Do you believe in God?” he asks abruptly.

“Bit of a sore subject. I spent my childhood having a Bible thrown at my head, just for being gay. I think there’s something out there, but haven’t got a clue as to what.”

“Well, in my experience, and in all my 45 years working here, you, my dear, are a walking miracle, and if I were you, I would start believing in God. Or at least thanking Him for keeping you alive.”

“That’s true. I’ve set things and myself on fire, several times, I’ve dropped things onto my toes, broken my nose, broken three ribs, fractured my skull, popped my eardrum, dislocated my pinky, hairline-fractured said pinky and dislocated my shoulder over the years. I’m a literal walking hazard. At 37, I need to be supervised and monitored, because things happen, machines get broken, equipment goes AWOL … Oh, I’ve also mildly electrocuted myself at least twice. Oh, and had that car crash.”

“Well, I think you need to be kept in a padded suit for your safety!” The Doctor jokes, before shaking his head.

“Probably. Oh, quick question. Am I still Autistic, or did the bump help?”

“Unfortunately, that won’t change your current neurological condition. You will still be Autistic, but that is a gift, not a curse. I believe those that are Autistic see the world in a magical way, and you should never, ever want to change that. You might be prone to accidents, which incidentally can be linked to Autism, due to lower pain threshold, and not-quite-switched-on pain receptors, and it can be a sign of Dyspraxia, which affects Gross and Fine Motor Co-ordination.”

“I think my childhood Doctor said something about that, but I promptly forgot it because the Asperger’s was more prevalent, as well as the ADHD. So, yeah I think I have Asperger’s, Dyspraxia and ADHD, as well as an IQ of 163.”

“Einstein had Autism and he was a genius. And I think he also had ADHD, or was that Beethoven? Anyway, regardless, you are you, don’t change, but just try to be a little more careful, especially when your head is involved. I wouldn’t like to have…” he checks your notes “…a Doctor of Physics, Engineering and Nuclear Engineering to have brain damage, because if severe enough, that could lobotomise you, and that’s no way to live. Highly unfortunate, but it does decrease your quality for life.”

“Yeah, no thanks.”

“You must rest now. We will monitor you.”

“When can I see Erin?”

“Oh, is she here with you?”

“Uhm, I don’t know. Probably, but I don’t know where she is. She wasn’t in the room before I hit my head. Also, is the booze out of my system?”

“No, but we did notice large quantities of it in your blood stream.”

“Sorry, we’re celebrating our honeymoon and got a little drunk at the Eiffel Tower restaurant.”

“No better place to get drunk during your honeymoon.”

“I stopped drinking and hour before we got to the hotel, which was three hours or so after we got to Eiffel in the first place.”

“You will be fine this time tomorrow.”

“And what time is it?”

“18:36”

“Jesus, we got back around half 3 in the afternoon. Was I out for that long?”

“Well, you started to come round, but that was just before the surgery, to stitch your head, so we gave you an anaesthetic; enough to keep you asleep for the surgery, but not for too long after it. You have now been out of surgery for ten minutes, and you woke up five minutes ago.”

“At least I had a good sleep!” You chuckle.

“Quite. I shall go and get Erin and tell her she can come in to see you. She must be careful of your head.”

“She’s got Level 3 First Aid at Work. She is our designated First Aider. Abby has Level 2. I have Level 3 Outdoor First Aid and Patty and Kevin can give plasters, and headache tablets. So she’ll take really good care of me, Doctor.”

“I should hope so too with those qualifications. See you shortly.” He strides towards the door, his white coat swishing behind him. Once out in the corridor with the door shut, you swear to yourself absorbing all the information and thinking of how lucky you are to still be alive with the amount of injuries and blows to the head.

As you lie there, counting your breaths and how many times you can say ‘fuck’ before someone walks in, the door creaks open. “Fuck.” You say. “And that’s 22.”

“22 what?”

“Fucks. I was seeing how many times I could say it before someone walked in. But I don’t even have to look, to recognise that sweet voice. C’mere, babe.” You say slowly raising your arms up and out wide.

“No, use your words, honey.”

You make a silly childlike grumpy noise. And frown. Making it again, you blow air through your nose, before sighing and pouting. “Holtzy want a huggy.”

“Okay, Holtzy can have a huggy. Erin here.”

You make a happier childlike noise and wait for her to wrap her arms around you, before silently crying into her shoulder. She feels your body heaving and rubs your back. “What’s up, chicken?”

“Just realised how much shit I’ve put my body through and fucking grateful that I’m not a vegetable. How’s my head?”

“Still attached, but you’ve got an antiseptic pad on it. And I’d still love you if you were a vegetable.”

“Cabinet cut me, had to have stitches. I know you will, until about a month in and then you’d switch off my machine. By the way, where were you?”

“I was out getting aspirin for your headache and/or migraine you would undoubtedly have from the wine. I was gone for twelve minutes. But _you_ have been out for hours. Plus, they didn’t tell me anything about what had happened to you. I’ve had two panic attacks in the reception, but luckily, the trainee nurse, Becky, from England, helped me.”

“They didn’t tell you?”

“Nope.”

“What a ding-a-ling.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m so mad, but I’m also super happy about you being alive.”

“I think I need to go to church.” You say uncharacteristically.

“Ey, what?”

“The Doctor said I’m lucky to be alive and after all my injuries, I should be praying to God for keeping me alive. Sunday we’re going to church. We’ve got ten days and we’ve only been here for three.”

“I know, babe. Okay, so Sunday 24th we’re going to church. You _sure_ you wanna go?”

“Not to Notre Dame, unless that’s the only one close enough.”

“We’ll have to look at a map. And if it is, we’ll just avoid that bitch Agnes.”

“Okay, babe. Come sleep with me?”

“Babe, not having sex in the hospital, we said this last time.”

“Nooo, spoon me.”

“Okay, yeah I can do that.” You roll over to your right side, to elevate the left side of the brain, and to avoid tugging at the cables attached to the heart machine, as Erin takes off her heels.

You roll over on to your back again. “Yano, I’ve not had a drink up in this bitch. Can you get me some water please?” You say, really noticing how bunged up and hoarse you sound. Erin nods and leaves the room, without putting her heels back on.

The steady beeping of the heart monitor fills the room, and you count the ceiling tiles.

Within a few minutes, Erin returns with a paper cup of water. “Hello Mrs Holtzbert.”

“Hello to you, Mrs Holtzbert.”

Erin sneaks a peek at your medical records, attached to the bottom of your bed. “You have rather an extensive Medical Record, madam! Two concussions, a fractured skull, seven knock outs, three broken ribs, broken nose, a couple of dislocations and electrocution and setting yourself on fire, is astounding, and frankly, I can’t believe how you are still alive, and have no neurological disorders, cardiovascular or nervous system problems. Some of these are handwritten notes, by the way. Did the Doctor literally write them as you were telling him?”

“Probably. Now, come here and cuddle me.”

Erin hands you the cup of water, which you down in mere seconds, before you hand it to her and she puts it to one side. Clambering on the bed next to you, she drapes her arm over yours and nuzzles her head into your shoulder. You push your hips back into her pelvis, so you’re tightly connected and you sigh in unison.

“We haven’t had a cuddle like this for ages.”

“I know, babe, I’m sorry.”

“Hey, I’m sorry to. I’ve been tired recently.”

“Wait? You? Tired? You don’t get tired, Holtz.”

“I do, I just work through it.”

“Promise me one thing?”

“What’s that?”

“Please start having more sleep.”

“I don’t have 14 minutes anymore!”

“No, but 4 hours a night really, _really_ isn’t healthy.”

“Yeah, I know. How about 6 hours?”

“Babe, sleep for 8 like I do. I promise you’ll feel better for it.”

“Buuut, that means there’s less time to tinker and play with my toys and my weapons.”

“But the less sleep you have, the more you risk damaging yourself and I can’t risk you hurting yourself any more. We’ll start with the 8 hours, and then, I think we need to start supervising you more, or limiting what you can use.”

“Well, none of this would have happened if I hadn’t had that car crash, or been imprisoned.”

“Well, that’s true, but none of that is your fault.”

“It turns out, that I was abducted for being gay. I mean, who even does that?”

“I don’t know, but let’s not keep bringing it up. It pains me to have to think about it. It pains me to know that I wasn’t there to protect you and it makes me feel really shitty.”

“Honey, you came and got me, that’s pretty fucking heroic.”

“I did, but if I had stayed at the hospital then I could have stopped them.”

“Speaking of, where did Patty go? She wasn’t in there when I got drugged.”

“That’s purely bad timing, because she was literally gone to get a coffee and use the facilities and they must have seen her leave the room, otherwise they wouldn’t have known where you were.”

“But that’s the thing. I never found out how they _did_ find me, just that they did. Man, this is one fucked up world.”

“It really is. Now, let’s try and get some sleep. I want you fully rested, so you can get out of here and we can get back to enjoying our vacation.”

You close your eyes, mumble ‘I love you’ to Erin and listen to her breathing. Her gentle snoring indicates that she’s already fast asleep and as you lie there, you feel your eyes getting heavier. Holding Erin’s hand, which is resting just below your clavicle, you close your eyes and prepare to fall asleep. The breathing falls in time with the steady beep of the heart rate monitor, and it is this which lulls you into a deep and natural sleep.


	37. Chapter 35

You wake up sometime in the afternoon with hunger pangs. You release your now-numb hand from Erin’s and shift your weight to your back. She mumbles in her sleep. Wriggling over to your left side, you kiss her face and wait for her to wake up.

Erin wakes up to find you staring intensely at her, but she smiles warmly. “Hey you. You okay?”

“Yup, just hungry. I need something to eat. Can we leave yet?”

“I don’t know.” She says, before stifling a yawn, which makes you yawn instead. “Let me go and find the nice Doctor and ask him when you can be discharged.”

You giggle at the word.

“Wow, you’re so immature.”

“Well, I _was_ having a sex dream, and there was a _lot_ of discharge from you.”

“Of course you were, do you ever _not_ have a sex dream?”

“Only after a bust, then I weirdly dream of ghosts.”

“I’ve done that a fair few times. I’ve replayed stuff in my head, wondering what would have happened if we did something differently, or if we had successfully trapped the ghost instead of destroying it.”

“Do I need to make adjustments?”

“Not at all. I just think we need to do some more trapping than busting. And like I always say, I don’t like the idea of ‘trapping’ them. ‘Ghost Trap’ has such negative connotations. After all, some manifestations are completely harmless and deserve our respect. I’ve always preferred the term ‘Temporary Ghost Lodging’.”

“You’re such a weirdo. We don’t go about giving ghosts new houses, Erin; we trap them, to dump them in the Ghost Containment Unit.”

“And that’s another thing which has negative connotations. ‘Ghost Containment Unit’ sounds like a prison; no offence, and I don’t think we should be imprisoning these ghosts, because what if they come back and haunt us.”

“You know our purpose is to _stop_ them from haunting us, right?”

“Yes, but we don’t exactly help them to cross over.”

“That’s not our job! We hunt ghosts, we trap them, we deal with them, and they sometimes go bye-bye. Look, if you wanna start helping ghosts cross over, then speak to the Ghost Whisperer and I’m sure she’ll set you up nicely.”

“Haha, very funny. Although, that is a good TV series.”

“I mean, it’s not The X-Files, but sure, it’s good.”

“You’re rather critical of things, you know that?”

“I know, because if they’re not any good, then I will make that known. Urgh, babe, I feel an argument coming on. Can we not argue? I don’t like it when we argue.”

“I just think we need to be a bit more respectful towards the spectral entity, that’s all.”

“If you wanna start calling it ‘Ghost Lodging’ that’s fine, but we are not changing anything else, and certainly are not gonna go back to being called ‘Conductors of Metaphysical Examination’, okay?”

“Yeah, okay. I really do need to learn to create shorter titles.” Erin climbs off the bed, puts on her heels and walks to the door.

“And where do you think you’re going?”

“To see if I can get you released from this hospital, so we can go and make love and explore the rest of France.”

“Ooh, I love it when you talk sexy.”

Erin furrows her brow before exiting.

You force yourself to sit up, and blow raspberries to yourself out of boredom. Without evening realising it, you’re having a full conversation with yourself.

“I mean, she can’t just change the name. It’s a _‘Ghost Trap’_ because we’re trapping them, so they can’t do any more damage. I mean, is it so difficult to keep the same name? I mean, I love the girl, but sometimes, she does have silly suggestions. Yes, but Holtzmann, you do need to have compromise. You’re married for God’s sake, you need even more compromise. Yes, I know, but _‘Temporary Ghost Lodging’_ is such a mouthful – not that you’ve complained – true – but, I can’t say ‘Oh, I’m gonna get out the Temporary Ghost Lodging now, to temporarily house the ghosts, until we get back to the lab.’ No, you can’t but just let her _think_ that she can call it that. I shit you not; you _will_ get into trouble if you don’t let her have that one. Urgh, you’re right, as always. I know… because I’m you…and you’re me… and I’m a genius. Yes, you are a genius, a genius who is super boooooooreeeeed.” You say as Erin re-enters with the Doctor in the swishy white coat.

“Who were you talking to, babe?”

“Um, no one.”

“Were you really just having a conversation with yourself?”

“Yes, doesn’t everyone.”

“No, hon, it’s the first sign of madness.” She jokes.

“‘We’re all mad here’, said the Hatter to Alice.” You say, smirking as you do so.

“I believe it was the Cheshire cat who said that, babe.” Erin replies, raising an eyebrow.

“Probably, but it doesn’t sound as good saying ‘said the cat to Alice’. Anyway, we have more pressing things to worry about. Can I get out of here today, or what?”

“Yes, you can leave soon. I just need to check the stitches, to make sure there is no infection, and treat it if there is, and then you’re free to go and explore the rest of France.” Dr. Barnabas says, coming over to you. He carefully unwraps the bandage on your head and peels away the antiseptic pad. “Hmm, just as I thought.”

“What? What is it?”

“No, infection, just some redness. I will give you some antiseptic cream to rub into the wound three times a day; do this for two weeks and you should be golden. There should be minimal scarring.”

“I’ve got plenty of scars, they don’t bother me.”

“Okay, well, good. Alright then, let’s get you that cream, and get you discharged.”

“Cheers, Doc.”

The Doctor bins the coverings. “No worries.” He starts to remove the heart rate monitor from your finger and nods at you. “Take it easy, you’ve been lying down for hours.”

You take Erin’s hand, and she helps you to your feet. “Fuck. I’m in a hospital gown, er Doctor Barnabas, where are my clothes?”

“Just down the hall, in a box, with your name on it.”

You twist your back to look over your shoulder, before whispering to Erin. “ _Hey, babe, is my ass on show?”_

She giggles and whispers back. _“Well, your boxers are. Good job you didn’t need anything doing down there, otherwise, yes, it would be.”_

_“Meh, if it’s my boxers, that’s fine. Fuck it, I can walk down the corridor.”_

_“I’d still tap that.”_

_“Later, you horndog.”_ You pull a face, as you notice the Doctor smiling, just before he leaves the room. Once the door is closed, you return to your normal volume. “Okay, I swear he just heard me say ‘horndog’.”

“Honey, I think he was just smiling to be nice.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure. C’mon, I’m dying for a piss.”

Erin squeezes your hand as you leave the room. You groan as you look about for the _‘toilettes’_ sign, but cannot immediately find one.

You dash to the nearest hospital worker. “Les toilettes, s’il vous plait.”

“Dans le couloir, tournez à gauche, première porte à droite.”

“Merci, beaucoup. Erin, let’s go.”

You walk briskly down the corridor, pulling Erin along by the hand as you pick up the pace. Her heels _clack_ and your bare feet _slap_ on the lino floor. You reach the end and swing left, before barrelling into the push door on the right. “Ooh, these are fancy.” You say, dropping her hand and finding one of three cubicles, which actually has loo roll.

Moments later you exit to find Erin has gone outside. You pull open the door; hands still wet from a half-hearted hand drying session, and get her attention. “Psst, missus. Come ‘ere.”

“What, what’s the matter?”

“Come ‘ere, I need ya.” You say, beckoning to her.

She strides over and joins you in the toilets. “What, what is it?”

“I need you to take a look at something for me. I think I’ve got a huge bruise, underneath my leg, like under the curve of my butt and I want you to check to see how large it is.”

“Can’t you wait until we’re home?”

“No, cos I might need to steal a pillow to sit on in the cab.”

“You’re deplorable, babe.” She says, pushing you into a cubicle and rolling her eyes. She locks the door, before standing behind you. You drop your boxers and she gets down on her knees to inspect the area you described.

She starts poking your soft, white butt. “There’s nothing here, except your milky skin.”

“Yeah, but, ow, man, that hurts.”

“Well, there’s nothing to show for it yet.” The door to the bathroom creaks open and she quickly stands up. You climb on the toilet seat to hide your feet and she simply shakes her head. _“I doubt anyone is gonna be checking for two pairs of feet.”_ She whispers incredibly quietly.

 _“I know, but I’d rather make sure, than have people think we’re doing it in a cubicle. And they might think it is, yano…”_ you pause and lean into her ear _“…a man.”_

_“Alright, that’s fair cop.”_

_“Thank you, I know. But, also, like, come here.”_

_“I am here, I literally can’t get any—_ ” You press your lips to hers, stopping her from speaking, taking her by surprise. She lets out a gentle moan and you subconsciously start grabbing her breasts, rubbing her shirt bra over her nipples. It does nothing for her, so you instinctively unbutton her plaid shirt and stick your hand inside her bra. You pull her right tit out and start sucking at the nipple. She grabs your hair and covers her mouth with your hand. She bites down on your palm and you whimper, trying to remain quiet.

You hear the toilet flush, the door unlocking and the tap running, but you’re still sucking at Erin’s nipple, both pairs of feet on the floor. At this point, you really don’t care, you’re too horny, and so is Erin. Once the bathroom door shuts, Erin removes your hand and releases a breathy moan.

“Baaabe” she breathes, before inhaling sharply, twice. Her breathing shallows and you know at this point, she is dripping and ready for it. Instinctively, your hands go down to unbutton her jeans and you pull them down a little ways, before pulling her lacy panties down too.

“Ooh, shit girl! You got _lace_. Oh, fuck me now, that’s hot.”

“Victoria Secret.”

“Ooh, Mama!” you say, before growling playfully.

Your middle finger slides inside her wet, warm pussy and you finger her in the bathroom stall. You start with the usual ‘ _Come hither’_ motion and by the moans Erin elicits, you can tell she is aroused and is enjoying herself. Sliding your index finger inside her, you manoeuvre her over to the toilet, where she lifts her left leg and places it on the lid of the toilet; she bends her back, so that you’re nearly the same height, even with her heels. You locate her G-Spot and quicken your pace. Her moans get louder and as you finger her, you continue sucking her nipple and start kissing her neck. As you continue working on her G-Spot, she grabs your hair again, and pulls at it. She kisses you hard on the mouth and pushes her tongue inside your mouth; your fingers and her tongue are working in sync and the two of you are getting hot from the effort and the small cubicle.

The bathroom door opens again, but with Erin’s moaning, you don’t hear it. The lady doesn’t know what to do and so she retreats back into the hallway as Erin’s pussy walls tighten around your fingers. She leans her head against the cubicle wall as she reaches climax. Just before she is about to cum, you stop and pull your fingers out; smirking as you do so.

“Are you fucking kidding me right now? You’re gonna leave me hanging? I’m literally about to cum.” Erin says, frustrated.

“No, I’m edging.”

“What the fuck does that even mean?”

“I’m prolonging it.”

“Prolonging what?”

“The time before you cum.”

“But why? Like, seriously. Holtzmann, I am literally gonna kill you with these heels if you don’t finish me.”

“Because, it’s supposed to make the orgasm more intense and pleasurable.”

“But not in the fucking toilets. Fucking finish me and we can talk about edging in bed. You are literally the _worst_ at timing. I’m so mad right now. I can’t even look at you; just-just, get your clothes, and then we’re going home.” Erin replies, angrily.

“Home home, or hotel home?”

“Hotel.”

You swallow and look at your feet. “I’m stupid, I know. I don’t think. I have a million and one ideas running in my head and I have a shitty voice telling me to ‘ _Go for it’_ and that _‘It’ll be alright, she’ll love it’_ and then you don’t love it, cos we don’t talk about it and then I fuck up and you get mad, cos I’m a twat. I-I don’t even know how you put up with me to be honest.” You unlock the door and run out of the bathroom, back to your room, to go and cry in the dark.

Erin pulls up her underwear and buttons her jeans, before thrusting her breast inside her bra and going after you. She looks sheepishly and the woman pacing the corridor, and runs towards your room.

The door creaks open as you quietly sob into the pillow. You’re tired, fed up and upset and having Erin shout at you was just the cherry on top of a really shit day. Erin perches on the end of the bed, before scooting up and rubbing your back to calm you down. You shrug her off and continue crying into the pillow.

“First of all, I’m sorry I shouted at you, I was just _so_ close, and it was literally the worst timing. Second of all, okay, I was out of line for saying that you’re the worst at timings, that’s not true. Some things are bad timing, but we’re all like that, I say things and do things at some really bad moments and I really regret it later. Like now, I regret having a go at you, because that was out of line, and I shouldn’t have said that, okay. I’m sorry, I was being a dick because I was seconds away from cumming and you just stopped and it was just pent-up frustration that spilled out and manifested itself as anger. Third of all, and this is the most important part and I need you to _really_ listen to what I have to say. Thirdly, you’re _the most important_ person in my _entire_ life. You were scared to ruin our friendship, and I told you to ruin it; I wanted you to ruin it, because I know how much you love me, and I love you so much it’s unreal; my heart hurts whenever we fall out. I love _everything_ about you. Your quirks, your, inverted commas, ‘flaws’, I love your silliness, and your loud clothes and your unique sense of style. I love how unapologetic you are for being so loud, and colourful, and crazy and unique and wonderful and I have _always_ loved that, and I 100% _always will._ I love that you’re so smart, even smarter than me, and you’re proud of that fact. You rejoice in being a Doctor, with a PhD in Physics, specialising in Nuclear Engineering; you boast about it, but not in a big-headed way, you boast about it, because you’re proud of your achievements. I love your happy little dances, and your sandwich songs, and the little hand clapping you do when you make something, or fix something, or something works properly. I love the noises you make when you’re concentrating, and the babbling you do when you’re excited. I love when you jump up and down and punch the air because you’re excited. I love your laugh, your smile, and your eyes. I love everything about you, because to me you are perfect and there is not a soul in this Universe that I would rather spend my life with, to die with or die for, to be with, to live with, to cherish, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health; all of that and more. I put up with you, because it’s not _putting up_ with, because I don’t tolerate it, I accept it with an open mind and an open heart. I like how you are; I love the person you are; the soul you are. I need you in my life, Jillian; because I think I would die without you. I know that that’s cliché as fuck, but I can’t imagine my life without you, because you’ve changed it. You’ve full on flipped it upside down and inside out, but I never ever want to go back to the way things were. I’m on a fucking rollercoaster with you and I have absolutely no intentions of getting off. And, in case you don’t believe me, this is the God’s honest truth. I would never lie to you, because it stinks. It hurts. And you deserve my upmost respect and love. You’ve been hurt in the past and I’m done seeing people hurt my girl. I want to make you happy all the goddamn time, I want to be the reason you smile, and smirk and kiss me randomly. I want to be the one you cook for, all the time, including in the nude; which by the way, is so hot and I literally cream whenever I see you naked. I want to be the one to grown old with. I don’t want anything more. I have my life and my family and it’s with you and Jane. You’re my life, you’re my present and my future, and as much as we wind each other up, I will never, ever, _ever_ leave you. I, Erin Jane Gilbert, made a promise to you, Jillian Holtzmann, to be with you forever, and I’m not gonna let some stupid moments take that away from us. I want you to experiment with me, to go wild with me, to try new sex stuff. All I ask is for a little bit of communication from the _both_ of us, before we do anything wild, so we can air any confusion or worries and so we know what we do and don’t like. I do wanna try edging, but can we at least discuss it first? Oh, and also, whilst I remember, _‘Ghost Trap’_ does sound better than _‘Temporary Ghost Lodging’_ so I apologise for interfering and trying to change something that you worked hard to make. I’m sorry for shouting at you, and making you feel less than, and for making it about me, when I should be making it about you. You’re prone to accidents, for fuck’s sake, and instead of me taking care of you, I’m stressing about not cumming. Jesus, I _really_ need to sort out my fucking priorities. Okay, I’ve said so many ‘fucks’ than ever before, and that is your doing; but I don’t mind the swearing, because sometimes, you’re extra cute when you swear. Okay, now I’m giving you two choices. I can leave you alone, and you can come and find me, or I can sit here, in silence and let you talk to me when you’re ready. If you want me to stay, then hold my hand and if you don’t, then I’ll go and get your clothes and then piss off to the waiting room and you can come and find me when you’re ready.” Erin lapses into silence. Your crying has stopped and now you’re just sniffing. “Okay, I understand. I’ll see you whenever you’re ready.” She says when you don’t immediately grab her hand.

“Stay.” You say, turning your head from the pillow. “Do you really mean that? Like all of it?”

“Yes, you nutter. Every.single.fucking.word. I cannot describe how much I love you, just that my heart races every time, I have butterflies, I get really turned on by you, all the damn time, I wanna rail you all the time, I wanna kiss you all the time. I would die for you; again, a massive cliché, I know, but I cannot think of how else to say it.”

“Well, I get all that too, yano. I’m sorry I didn’t think. Sometimes, in the throes of passion, I just do and don’t think about it until after.”

“I get like that too, babygirl.”

“I’m sorry I’m such a pain in the ass.”

“Oh my God, don’t ever change. I _want_ you to be a pain in my ass, because that’s you. You challenge me every bloody day and I want to be challenged. My life was pretty boring with Phil; it had plateaued months before I got fired, so I met you at probably the best time.”

“You really think so?”

“Hell, I _know_ so. Right, let me go and get your clothes, you compose yourself and then we’re going back to the hotel. We’ve got _loads_ more stuff to see and plenty more bedroom shenanigans to be getting caught up in.”

“Okay, but I’m gonna rail you so hard when we get back.”

“Good, I’m counting on it.” Erin kisses your shoulder blade, atop the hospital gown and disappears to go and find your clothes.

You roll on to your back and all of a sudden, tiredness washes over you. You decide to rest your eyes, but you’re fast asleep by the time Erin gets back, five minutes later.

She opens the door and turns on the main light, before noticing you’re asleep and switching on the bedside lamp. Turning off the central light, she kicks off her heels, and then clambers on top of the duvet. Pulling it out from underneath you, she settles under it, covers the pair of you, and spoons you closely.

Erin has barely dropped off when the door opens with a bang and the light is abruptly switched on. You wake with a start and notice two nurses with bedding under their arms.

“Oh, sorry, we just fell asleep. We’ll leave now.”

You quickly translate into French, Erin gathers your clothes, sneakers and her heels and you leave hurriedly in embarrassment, leaving the nurses to strip your bed.

“How the hell did we both just fall asleep, when we’ve done nothing strenuous?” Erin asks, sighing and blowing a raspberry.

“Our bodies are hibernating. We gotta get out here and get fresh air.” You say, taking your clothes off her, but accidentally dropping your shoes on the floor. You look at them for a few moments, and then shrug, stepping over them and wandering back towards the toilets. Erin puts on her heels and picks them up. Hanging the backs of your shoes off her first two fingers, she leans against the wall and waits for you to come back.

You exit the toilets, with your hair back in a messy bun, with your fringe doing some sort of crazy cowlick; your signature look. Your joggers are down to your ankles, as they should be, but your oversized blue shirt is awkwardly tucked into the waistband, where you just threw your clothes on in a carefree manner. You bend down to pull the bottoms of your joggers up and push your ankle socks down, so they’re bunched at the ankle.

You shrug at Erin, pulling your shirt out as you do so, and take a sneaker from her. Wiggling your foot into one, you begin to lose your balance and opt to sit on the floor, to put them on and lace them up. You reach up a hand and the other sneaker is placed into your palm. Once both are laced properly, with double knots, you hold both hands out and wait for Erin to help lift you off the floor.

“Right, let’s go!” You exclaim, clapping your hands three times, before taking hers.

You wander hand-in-hand towards the reception area before you realise that you’ve left the hospital gown on the sink. You groan and release your grip, dashing back to retrieve it. “S’pose I’d better give this back ‘en.”

“Yeah, you better had.” She says, shaking her head.

Once you arrive at the reception, you roughly fold the gown, before filling out the necessary paperwork. As you do so, Erin re-folds the gown, neatly, before passing it over the top of your bent down head. You sign your name, Erin countersigns, hands the form back to the receptionist and you both leave the hospital.

“Shit. Now we’re gonna need a taxi. Balls. I didn’t think that one through.”

Erin furrows her brow. “Honey, no one did. Neither of us anticipated you knocking yourself out _again_.”

You grin, sheepishly, fish for your Huawei in Erin’s handbag, which you’ve just realised she still has and dial Givenchy’s number, which you have assigned to a speed dial slot. “Bonjour, Givenchy. Nous sommes à L’Hôtel-Dieu. S’il vous plaît, pouvez-vous venir chercher avec ma femme et nous ramener à L’hôtel Marquis Faubourg Saint-Honoré?”

“Absolument, pas de problème. Est-ce le Holtzberts?”

“Oui, ça l’est! Comment pouvez-vous dire?”

“Je me souviens de ton accent et de ta voix. Je serais las aussi vite que je peux. Au revoir pour le moment.”

“Merci Givenchy. A bientôt.” You hang up the phone and pocket it in your joggers. “That’s the taxi sorted. Givenchy will be here as soon as.”

“Marvellous. I think we should just have some fun when we get back, we’ll do some more exploring tomorrow.”

“Sooo, TV, room service, good shag, bath for two and a long sleep?”

“Yup, my thoughts exactly; emphasis on the shag and bath, though. That sounds great.” Erin says, kissing your forehead.

You wink at her, and point across the street. “Oh, my God! It’s a Starbucks. Fucking hell, I _need_ a coffee.”

“Iced coffee?”

“Mm, maybe, or a latte. What about you?”

“Caramel macchiato.” She replies, swinging her handbag onto her shoulder.

“Ooh, yes!” You run to the kerb, and wait at the crossing, until the pedestrian light goes green and then you literally skip across the road, with Erin striding to keep up with you.

Once inside, you find a two-seater table in the window, and plonk yourself down. You exhale loudly and smile at Erin, who takes the hint and strolls off to the counter. She returns with two hot drinks and places yours in front of you, before disappearing. Returning with a large slice of chocolate cake, your belly grumbles at the sight and saliva fills your mouth. You realise that you are famished and stare at the cake in wonderment at the size of it. She sets it on the table, in the middle and produces two forks and napkins from her pocket. She sits and reclines, inhaling deeply. You stuff a huge forkful in your mouth, before thanking her, with mouth full. You moan at the luscious, Belgian chocolate and Erin looks at you. You nod, indicating that ‘Yes, it really is _that_ good.’ She takes your word for it and takes a smaller forkful, joining in with you on the moans.

Swallowing, you nod again. “Oh, my God, that Belgian chocolate is gorgeous. _Much_ better than Hershey’s. Jeez, we _need_ the shit at home.”

“I think we can get Belgian chocolate at home.”

“Baise moi, that’s it. That’s all we’re ever buying.” A few heads turn in your direction as you say ‘fuck me’ in French; not an offer as they seem to think.

Erin giggles and drinks some of her Caramel Macchiato in a paper takeaway cup. She divides the rest of the cake and you both stuff your mouths as your phone plays Bananarama’s _Cruel Summer,_ loudly. You swoop your head from side to side as you chew and then pick it up. “Bonjour! Nous devons finir le gâteau, mais nous serons là dans une seconde.”

“Aucun problème. Je ne vais nul part.”

You pick up some cake with your fingers and put it in your mouth as you hang up. You point at the remaining cake, and at Erin, before pointing with your thumb over your shoulder, towards the door as you eat. You tap your watch and stand up. Erin nods, shoves the last of her cake in her mouth, grabs her handbag and her coffee and you grab yours, wipe your mouth on a napkin and pace in the direction of the door. She does the same and follows suit.

* * *

Back at the hotel, Erin informs the manager of the events and thanks him for his help, whilst you wait impatiently for the lift, shifting your weight between each foot. The manager gives Erin a discount voucher for a meal for two and a bottle of Cabernet in the restaurant. She takes it and smiles at him, before joining you as the doors slide open.

You inspect your head in the back-wall mirror and poke the stitches. Erin slaps the back on your hand, raises and eyebrow and slowly shakes her head. You frown and fold your arms across your chest.

“Don’t even think about picking at them, or picking at the scab.”

You make a noise. “Aww, but that’s my favourite thing to do.”

“You’re gross. Also, it will become infected, so don’t touch it. Holtz!” she says, slapping your hand away for the second time.

“Sorry, that was subconscious.”

“So, the plan is to get in the room, put on the TV, run a bath, enjoy a long soak, then we can have…”

The doors open a gentleman in a business suit steps inside. Erin doesn’t finish her sentence, but you get the gist of what she is trying to say.

“ _Might be better to do that before the bath, yano…for reasons._” You say, quietly.

“ _That would be a better idea, well done_.”

“Thank you.” You say, in your normal voice, grinning.

The man leaves the elevator and it’s just you two again.

“Okay, so yeah, sex before the bath, that’s a good idea, especially considering you want to ‘rail’ me. And how do you propose to do that without a penis?”

“Uhm, fingers?” You suggest, pulling a face, and pushing your tongue in your cheek.

“Honey, I don’t think railing is gonna work without the male reproductive organ.”

“Urgh, way to spoil the fun.”

“Sorry.” She says, sheepishly. The doors slide open on your floor and you step out to a flickering light in the corridor. “Okay, if I see the two twins from ‘ _The Shining’_ I’m gonna pass out.”

“Haha, I’ll stab them.” You say, trying to sound confident.

“With what?”

“Your heels.”

“You’re such a weirdo, but this legit looks like a horror movie scene.”

“Well, let’s get in the room and lock the door before any axe murderers come to get us.” You say, hint of panic in your voice.

“Baaabe! Not what I wanna think about before bed.”

“Okay, fine, well, we’re hard as nails, they’re not gonna get us. I’m especially tough, because realistically, I should _probably_ be dead.” You say, mustering up some confidence from the pit of your stomach.

“Don’t say that, don’t wish that upon yourself.”

You clear your throat. “I didn’t. Okay, look, if it makes you feel better: Dear Jehovah, Jesus, God, Ishmael, Emmanuel, dude in the sky, whatever you wanna be called, please keep us all alive, me especially, cos I’m prone to accidents and I am very grateful that I have been kept alive, so like, um, please continue. Yeah, okay, thanks. And, um, thank you for Erin too. Okay, peace out … Oh, no, sorry, Amen.”

“You’re such a dork.”

“But I’m your dork. Okay, now, please, let’s …” you’re cut off as your phone rings again. You grumble at the name on the screen: BITCH FROM HELL. You decline the call, and then change her name to Birth Giver. She calls again, and sighing, you answer. “Hi Mom. What can I do for you? Except tell you that this is gonna cost you a small fortune.”

_“Hi honey, where are you?”_

“France, on our honeymoon, what’s up?”

_“Oh, nothing, just Janey is poorly sick and is asking for Mommy.”_

“How poorly sick?”

“ _I think she has a bug, because she has a temperature, but I also noticed that she was itching today, so she could have a rash.”_

“Oh, Jeez. Fuck’s sake. Is there anything going around the kindergarten?”

_“I don’t know, sweetheart. I tried to ring the Principal, but he didn’t answer.”_

“Shit. Look, can you take her to the Doctor’s, please?”

_“I am going to, tomorrow, but I just wanted to let you know.”_

“Mom, couldn’t you have rung me _after_ you’d taken her? Now I’m gonna worry and I don’t need that stress now. I’ve just got out the hospital.”

_“Oh fuckanora, what happened this time?”_

“Whacked my head, cut it, knocked myself out, gave myself a second mild concussion, had to have stitches, but no brain haemorrhage.”

 _“Oh, sweetheart, you need to be more careful_.”

“I know, Mom. I’m trying, but my Dyspraxia is acting up.”

“ _You don’t have Dyspraxia.”_

“Uh, yeah I do. The Doctor said I had Dyspraxia, Asperger’s and ADHD, but you only heard Asperger’s and ADHD as that was the most affecting. You thought I would grow out of them, but nope, I’m still fucked up at 37.”

_“You’re not fucked up, sweetie, you’re just wired differently.”_

“Hold your ponies. Did you just _actually_ _agree_ that I’m _not_ fucked up?”

“ _Yes, because you aren’t. I told you, I’ve changed, I’m different than I was.”_

“I know, I realise, and I’ve seen that, but that’s still a shock to the system.”

Your Mother laments. “ _Honey, I promise you, that you are not fucked up. And it is not your fault. It also has nothing to do with me being a horrible Mother, this is a birth defect … Okay, ‘defect’ isn’t the correct word; it’s a birth thing, not a nurture thing. Nurture V Nature – You were born this way. Born with a different brain, and you were born gay and that’s okay with me. Honestly, I realise now that this was never a choice, it was a realisation. You know how happy I am for you both. I also apologise, wholeheartedly, for throwing a copy of the NIV Bible at your head; that probably did some damage, I’m surprised that I didn’t give you multiple concussions or brain damage as a child_.”  
“Well, I’m thankful too. Let me know how it goes at the Doctor’s surgery tomorrow, okay? We’ve just got back to the hotel.”

“ _What are you gonna do_?”

“Uhm, do you want the truth or a fabrication of the truth?”

“ _Jillian, I don’t like it when you lie to me, it makes me feel bad_.”

“Okay, so you want the truth. Uhm, okay, we’re gonna fuck.”

“ _Ohhh… Yeah, some things are best kept private_.”

“You _wanted_ to know. Sorry, baby.” You say to Erin who is turning red. “Okay, well, keep us updated. I won’t be keeping you updated, cos that’s just gross. Okay, bye Mom, love you.”

_“Love you two, my beautiful, darling girl. Give my love to your wife, please.”_

“Hey Er-bear. Mom says ‘Love you’.”

“Oh, well, love you too, Karen.” Erin says, with wide eyes.

“She said it back.”

“ _I know, I heard her. Okay, well have fun making love to each other. Your father shall be going balls deep, once Jane is asleep.”_

“Ew, Mom! No! I don’t wanna know about my Dad’s wrinkly old penis, going balls deep inside of you, thank you! That’s revolting. Fuck, Mom. You dirty whore.”

“ _Who are you calling a whore_?!”

“You, cos that is rank.”

“ _You do it with Erin_.”

“That is a misnomer, because I don’t have a penis, or balls, and I _don’t_ go balls deep, thank you very much.”

“ _But surely you have toys?”_

“OHMYGOD! MOM! We’re _not_ talking about my sex life. I’m hanging up now.”

_“Okay, well stay safe.”_

“Okay, now I need to go and get that horrid image from my brain. Jesus, I may never have sex again. Fuck’s sake, Mom.”

“ _Bye, cupcake_.”

You hang up and dry heave, making loud, but fake vomiting noises.

“Did that literally just happen, Jillian?”

“Yes. Yes, I think it did. My Mom just asked if we used toys and told me Dad is gonna go balls deep in her tonight. Oh God, I feel queasy.”

“That’s disgusting. How’s Jane?”

“She’s ill and Mom thinks she might have a bug or a rash. She’s going to the Doctor’s tomorrow.”

“Oh no, poor babygirl.”

“I know, I’m gutted, cos she’s been asking for us.”

“I just wanna give her a cuddle.”

“Urgh, me too. Come cuddle me instead.”

“Always.”

“Thank you, Professor Snape.”

Erin kisses you and then takes off her shoes. You take yours off and crack your toes. She cuddles you, briefly, rocking you from side to side, before turning the TV on to a music channel and turning it up.

“Dude, why is it so loud?”

“Cos you’re gonna be screaming my name.”

“Oh, shit son.” You say, scrabbling to unbutton your shirt. You manage three buttons before yanking it up and over your head. Hastily getting your joggers off, you watch as Erin slowly unbuttons her flannel shirt, which she had changed into once you had returned from Notre Dame, and sets it to one side. “No teasing, bitch.”

“I shall tease as I please, bitch.”

You groan in annoyance.

Slowly her jeans come off so she is just sitting there in her lacy Victoria Secret panties and matching bra.

“Uhhh, when did you go to Victoria Secret?”

“Before the wedding, in time for our honeymoon.”

“God, I love you. You’re so fucking sexy. Come here and kiss me.”

“No demanding. I’m taking care of you tonight. You’re subbing.”

“Bu-bu-but I’m a dom.”

“Uh-uh, not tonight you’re not. Er-bear has to take care of you because of your accident.”

“Sooo how long do you intend to take to get your clothes off?”

“As long as I want, and if you pester me, then they will stay on.”

“Nooo.”

“Then don’t pester me.”

“Urgh, fine.”


	38. Chapter 36

Your moans fill the room as Erin tenderly licks your clitoris. It feels like it’s been weeks since you last had any gentle pleasure. You simper at the contact and twitch on the sheets. Your breathing becomes heavy as she quickens her pace, but she doesn’t stop for breath, which makes you more turned on. A girl who can go down on you for a while without breath is not only a turn on, but deserves some sort of recognition of achievement. She keeps licking away and you gasp with pleasure, the air catching in your chest. You begin to pant and moan louder.

Feeling Erin smirk into your flesh, you giggle yourself, but only briefly as the intensity escalates. You hold your breath, and then squeak, before moaning really loudly. The TV music drowns it out for anybody passing in the corridor, but Erin knows just how much you’re enjoying it. You clutch the sheets with one hand, and grab a fistful of her red hair with the other. You tighten your grip on her locks, but not enough to cause discomfort.

As she continues pleasing you orally, you push Erin’s head down, so her mouth is pressed harder into your pussy. She takes this as an opportunity to munch harder and you gasp, groan and moan with more volume. You begin to claw at her back as you reach climax and your legs begin their usual uncontrollable shaking. You dig your nails into her back and drag them downwards several times, before you start scratching her back in the same repetitive motion. This turns her on, and makes her speed up again.

You begin to reach climax and break a sweat, shaking harder than you’ve done for a while. Your back arches and you shout “ERIN!” before cumming hard into her mouth. She swallows and comes up for air, to make out with you, with cum sliding down her chin, but without a care in the world. 

You wipe the cum up with your thumb and then seductively lick it off your skin, before sucking your thumb and smirking at her, all the while making intense eye contact. She inhales sharply, before moaning with desire. Your tongues collide, dancing with each other in your mouths, jutting backwards and forwards and writhing over one another; a rhythmic ritual of passion and love. You don’t break contact for a full five minutes, until both of you are gagging for air.

“I don’t think we have ever French kissed for that long before!” she exclaims, puffing out her cheeks and blowing the air out quickly.

“No, that was maximum effort with a whole lotta passion and fire.” You reply, licking your lips, and biting the corner of your bottom lip.

“Hey, baby, can I give you head again, please?”

You pull a face of confusion. “Erm, why’re you asking? Of course you can you foxy redhead.”

Erin kisses your lips again. “Meow” she says, before licking her way down from your sternum to your abdomen. She kisses from hip to hip, blows a raspberry on your belly button and then licks your thighs; teasing you as she loves to do. You begin to get impatient, but hold your tongue, as you know she’ll stop if you start to complain. You sigh wistfully and she begins to lick your whole vagina, drawing circles with her index finger in your clit. You’re still wet from the first time, but somehow she makes you even wetter. Drawing her circles to a conclusion, she continues licking, and as you moan deeply, she inserts two fingers inside of you.

She matches the speed of her tongue with her fingers, and the two forms of stimulation makes you breathe hard and shallow. You moan and grunt with joy and your eyes roll upwards as you quickly reach climax. You hold your breath and open your mouth wide, rolling your eyes back to look at Erin, your expression changes to that of pure delight. You shout her name again and again, as the medium-speed fingering and licking takes over your senses. Your entire body shakes and this is the sign that a large orgasm is on its way. Sure enough, you reach climax, make a sort of strangled high-pitched moan and squirt over the bedsheets, and into Erin’s mouth and face. It’s been a good few years since this has happened and so it takes your wife by surprise.

“Woah, shit.” She says, wide-eyed, a look of shock etched onto her face.

Panting, trying to slow your respiration, you lean back into the pillow, and push your body firmly into the mattress. “S-sorry.” You retort, staring up at the ceiling and the chandelier-type light.

“No, don’t be sorry. I had just forgotten that that’s a thing that can happen; the elusive squirter.”

You chuckle lightly.

“Do you need some respite before you do me?”

“Uhm, yes please. Are you really horny now?”

“Uh-huh. Do I have to remind you ever single time we make love, that you being loud and vocal and moaning, really, _really_ turns me on?”

“In all honesty, that’s a piece of information that I had forgotten.”

“I have told you like six times, boo.”

“Six times in six years; that’s like one a year.”

“Not quite, but I get the point. And alright, it’s fair enough that you’ve forgotten that vital piece of information. But, let it sink into your brain: You being vocal turns me on, makes me super horny and really wet.”

“Okay, mental note made.”

“Darling, you look so tired, are you sure you’ve got the energy to lay me?”

“Let me catch my breath, then I’ll definitely be giving it to you, doll.” You say, sitting up. You bring your knees up to your chest, hug them tightly and lay your chin in between your kneecaps. “Yano I’m really worried about Jane. I know I shouldn’t be thinking about that, but it’s just popped into my head. Like she’s not got sick before, and I feel like we should be stressing about it. She’s our daughter for fuck’s sake, and we’ve left her with Nanny and Bampy, and you know how much of a fucked up childhood I had, that I’m seriously worried Mom isn’t gonna look after her properly.”

“Are you really that worried?”

“Babe, she’s three, I don’t know what’s wrong with her but Mom said she has a temperature and is itching. She thinks it could be a bug.”

“Okay and I’m thinking it’s possibly Chickenpox.”

“But how can you be so certain?”

“Because I had Chickenpox around her age, most of my friends did and that’s the age where Chickenpox is common. Didn’t you get it?”

“No, I had the measles. Oh God, what if she has the Measles?”

“Didn’t we give her the injection for Measles, Mumps and Rubella?”

“I can’t even remember. Oh shit, what if we didn’t vaccinate her and now she’s contracted something nasty?”

“Your mother is taking her to the Family Doctor tomorrow; he will have her medical record and will let her know what injections Jane has had.”

“Are you sure?”

“Ring your Mom and make sure she asks what injections she’s had.”

“Babe, it’s eleven o’clock at night.”

“Which means it’s only 5pm there. It’s a 6 hour difference between Paris and New York.”

“It is?”

“Yes, now ring her.”

You grab your phone from your joggers, which you had tossed onto the floor and speed-dial your Mom. You sigh as you wait for her to pick up. “Hi Mom.” You say once the line connects.

“ _Hey poppet_.”

“Ooh, hey Dad. Quick q, can you ask Doctor Martin to check Jane’s medical records for which injections she has and hasn’t had, please? Mom says she’s got a temperature and probably a rash, so she’s going tomorrow. Erin says she’ll have Chickenpox, but I’m scared she has the Measles, or worse.”

“ _Yeah, sure thing, my love. How’s the honeymoon? Heard you were in the hospital; what happened?_ ” He asks, calmly.

“Yeah, it’s great, thanks. Yeah, drank too much wine up the Eiffel Tower, got back to the hotel, fell asleep, woke up alone, rolled off the bed in my drunken stupor, head-butted the bedside cabinet, knocked myself out, gave myself a second concussion, had another MRI; that’s two now – no issues, no brain damage or bleeds on the brain, had 8 stitches, finally got home and now I’m on the phone to you.”

“ _Anything else_?”

“Liiiiike?”

“ _Well your Mother mentioned something about_ …”

“Nope, la, la, la, la, la, nope. Nuh-uh. Don’t need to hear it. Don’t _want_ to hear it. Don’t want to discuss my private life with my parents, thank yoooou.”

“ _I thought we were beginning to be open with one another; all four of us_.”

“Yes, we were starting to be open, but _not_ open enough to discuss how we make love to our respective partners. I don’t _need_ or _want_ to know that Dad. That’s just gross. I think Erin is about to barf at the thought, and to be honest, I nearly puked myself.”

“ _But it’s a natural process_.”

“It may very well be, but I just don’t feel comfortable talking about sexual intercourse with my parents. You guys are in your 70s and I don’t need disturbing images about the male reproductive organ in my head. That’s not something I have _ever_ desired.” You shudder and wrinkle your nose. 

“ _Just don’t think about it as being embarrassing, or awkward. Just think about it as a natural process and a comfortable discussion to be having with your family_.”

“Okay, Dad, you’re missing the point. I love you both, but changing topics, please ask about Jane’s jabs when you’re at the Doctor’s tomorrow. Would ya? Please?”

“ _Absolutely and I’ll text you the answer_.”

“Marvellous. Now I’m gonna hang up and nail the love of my life.”

“ _Ah, so you can talk about it_?”

“Yeesh! Urgh, you’re so adamant to get it out of me. Fine, I shall elaborate. Before I rang you, Erin just gave me two wonderful munches and it was glorious. Over the past six years, we’ve probably had 60 sexual encounters and we don’t intend on stopping. I know you and Mom did, but it all hit the fan after you cheated on Mom, and then the whole debacle with the divorce and whatnot. I shit you not that Erin is _the best_ sexual partner I have _ever_ had and we have a beautiful daughter to show for it. No, we didn’t opt for IVF, as that would have cost thousands of dollars. But, and I don’t think we’ve actually told you this, but, we used a sperm donor, a man by the name of Dr Earnhart, who is a professor at Harvard University, and that’s how Erin conceived and birthed Jane. I don’t think we’re going to tell her that her Dad is a sperm donor, but as of yet, she’s wholly accepting of two Moms, and pretty much doesn’t care; she cares about rocks and sticks and Erin’s bought her a Barbie doll, which she loves, and she loves to read and draw and colour. She’s really intelligent already, and the kindergarten teachers say she is excelling; which obviously we’re super proud about. And as for the sex, yes that kinda became lax for the first three years of Jane’s life, only really doing it quietly in the evenings after she had gone to bed, but always stopping if we heard her in the hall, heading towards our bedroom, but since being here in Paris, we’ve probably had sex like 10 times and we’re only on day four or five.”

“ _Well then. Keep at it. And good for you choosing a sperm donor. I don’t like the idea of In-Vitro Fertilisation, because it breeds the whole concept of ‘designer babies’ and that’s abhorrent.”_

“Totally agree. So yah, Jane’s medical records, if you would, please?”

“ _Yup, sure thing. Bye sweetie_.”

“Later, Dad.” You hang up and groan. “Well that was uncomfortable.”

Erin nods her head. “Tell me about it. Your parents are so pushy.”

“Urgh, I knoooow, but weirdly it feels good to admit that stuff; especially the part about using a donor. And he seemed happy.”

“Well, that’s good.”

“I’m sorry wifey, but I can’t rail you after that discussion. Let’s just watch some TV and then see where the night takes us. I know you want it bad, but my mind is conjuring up some really messed up images, and I could use a distraction, which isn’t sex, because that’s part and parcel of the problem.”

“Darling, I understand, I’d be exactly the same, plus you seem out of it.”

“Out of it how, doll?”

“Like you’re not really with it, I can tell your mind is elsewhere, and that you’re not in the mood to return the favour.”

“Oh nooo, that’s not it. It’s just I can’t sleep with you after I’ve just spoken to my Dad about sleeping with you. It’s all confuddled up in my head, and I don’t _really_ wanna be thinking of my Dad’s penis, whilst I bang you with the strap-on!”

“Yeah, well, that seems fair. And I love how you use almost every word of ‘sex’ there is in like the same sentence.”

“Keeps you on your toes and makes for an interesting conversation.”

“Well, that’s true.” Erin grabs the remote and starts to channel surf. “Uhm, nope, no, not a horror, ew, murder mystery, urgh, ‘ _Keeping Up with the Kardashians’_ hard pass … Ooh, OhmyGod, babe, Disney-Pixar’s _‘Up’_ is on in ten minutes.”

“PUT IT ON!” You yell from the bathroom, having gone there as she was flicking through the channels.

“Already gotcha sorted.”

“UH, HOW’S ABOUT WE ORDER ROOM SERVICE? I FANCY A PIZZA.”

“Margherita, Meatfeast, Pepperoni or Hawaiian?”

“I think they only do one type here… Margherita sounds good to me.” You say, clambering onto the bed, and placing your damp hands on Erin’s face to kiss her.

“Gaah. You’re hands are still wet.”

“Whoopsies.” You say, disappearing to dry them properly on the handtowel.

You come back to find Erin already on the phone, ringing down for a pizza. She smiles politely and even manages to perfectly pronounce “Merci” before hanging up.

“Oof, hello sexy Mama, speaking French with perfect pronunciation. Where did my honeybear learn that?”

“From a sexy French-speaking woman named Jillian.”

“Well thank her for teaching you, because that was gorgeous.”

“Well, merci Jillian.”

“Mmm, come here you. Mon amour pour toi grandit et je veux juste te faire l’amour, ma reine.”

“Ma reine. I like the sound of that; what does it mean?”

“My queen.” You say, beaming.

“Oh fuck me, make love to me now.”

“But I thought we were watching the film?” You say, pouting.

“Finger me as we watch it then.” Erin says imperturbably.

“Hmm, okay, but I wanna give you head first.”

“That’s reasonable, but you’ll miss the start.”

“Literally only five minutes of it.” You say straddling her.

“Oh, it’s gonna take you that long is it?”

You shrug. “Meh. Well, I could make it 30 seconds.”

“Uhhh, bitch p-lease! At least two minutes.”

“Compromise. I love it.”

“Okay, two minutes of head, then we can watch the film, which we have on DVD.”

“Sure.”

Erin furrows her brow. “What’s up?”

“Nooothiiing.” You lie.

“You’re lying.” She replies.

“Am not.” You say, huffing and folding your arms.

“Are too.”

“Am not, and you know it.” You reply, poking out your tongue.

“Are too, I know you too well.”

You bounce up and down on top of her. “I wanna plaaaay.”

“Well plaaaay then.”

You make your child-like noise again.

“Holtzy, what game do you wanna play?”

“Ew, no, no game. I wanna play with you. Properly.” You say grinning creepily.

“Not with that grin you’re not.”

You climb off her and find your strap-on buried under some clothes from the last time you used it; you’re grateful none of the staff saw it when they came to check on you. As you wander into the bathroom to give it a clean, there is a knock on the door. You gasp and lock the bathroom door as Erin throws on your robe, ties it tightly and opens the bedroom door.

“Your pizza, madam.” The manager says. “It’s on the house.”

“Well, that’s great, thank you.”

“How’s your wife’s head?”

“Oh she’s fine now, thank you. We’re taking it easy. Gonna watch a film and then have an early night. No alcohol tonight.”

“I’m glad to hear she is okay. Enjoy your pizza.”

“Thank you David.”

“You’re welcome. Au revoir.”

“Au revoir.” Erin closes and locks the door and you re-emerge with the clean dildo in hand.

“Yo, did he just say free pizza?”

“Yup.”

“Uhhhm, why?”

“Cos you hit your head, and he felt bad cos it’s in his hotel.”

“Aw shucks. Now I feel like a douche.”

“Well you’re not a douche. So shut up and come eat. Sex will have to wait.”

“But I just cleaned this.”

“That’s fine; we can use it later, or tomorrow.”

You huff loudly.

“If you’re gonna whinge, I’ll eat this whole pizza to myself.”

“Back off. Half of that is mine. Them’s the rules.”

“Well, don’t complain. At least five minutes ago you were telling me that you couldn’t have sex, and now you’re ready to strap me. Dude, make up your mind.”

“Oh. Yeah. That’s a rational comment.”

“So pizza, _‘Up’_ , sleep and sex tomorrow?”

“Yes, boss.”

Erin stuffs pizza in her mouth, unceremoniously. “Good…” she says, with her mouth full “…and whereshall we go tongorow?”

“Finish your mouthful and try again, I caught half of that.”

She swallows and repeats. “Where shall we go tomorrow?”

“Paris Museum of Modern Art and Château of Vincennes.”

“Sounds a plan, now shush, the movie’s starting.”


	39. Chapter 37

Just as you and Erin become blubbering messes, your phone _pings_. You pick it up and notice an email which looks suspicious. You open it anyway.

Dr Holtzmann

It has come to my attention that you have not bought anything from our website **XIndustries.com** for a long time. We are just emailing to check that you are still interested in keeping an active membership and receiving our emails.

If we do not hear back from you within 5 business days, we will remove you from our records. Please reply to this email with OPTOUT to be removed from our mailing list, or alternatively you can cancel your membership at **www.XIndustries.com/membership** , or reply with STAYIN to stay on our mailing list.

We also have between 50% and 75% discounts across the whole store on your favourite products, if that should help you in your decision.

Hope to hear from you soon!

X

X Industries

“Well, that’s interesting.” You say, closing the email application.

“What is?” Erin replies, sniffing and wiping her eyes.

“Just had an email from X about removing me from their mailing list.”

“Oh, well, you don’t need to be on that … or do you?”

“Weeeell, it might be useful for me to staaaay … I mean, I could, in theory cancel my membership, buuut, if I _need_ anything new then I’d have to resign up, and resign the waiver and pay an upfront fee of $100 and I _really_ can’t be bothered to do that.”

“So you’re keeping your membership?”

“Weeeell…”

“How much is it?”

“Like $50 for the year.”

“You’re spending 50 bucks on nuclear weapons?!” Erin says dumbfounded.

“Nooo, I’m spending 50 bucks on a membership for chemicals and materials for nuclear weapons.”

“Don’tcha think that’s a little steep?”

“It’s Black Market, so, no. If I went directly to the Russians, they’d be charging like 32,657.85 Russian Rubles, in this current climate.”

Erin bristles. “And how much are the chemicals?”

“Depends on what you want. Ooh, but they have a 50-75% discount across the store.”

“You’re dreadful. You’re gonna rack up a huge bill.”

“Then I won’t tell you how much I’ve spent over the last 20 odd years.”

“No, don’t tell me. I feel like this is something I will be cross over, because I feel it’s a bit irresponsible.”

“That’s fair.”

You turn your attention back to the screen and absorb the rest of the film, but not really seeing it. Your mind is on the email. You quickly navigate to Google and hit the bookmark labelled ‘X’. You wait for the page to load and quickly scroll with your thumb. Your face lights up as you stop on the product called ‘100L Silver Canister’ which is reduced by 75% and is now only $200. “Holy fuck, _that’s_ a good price.”

“You’re not seriously looking are you?”

“Babe, 100 litre canisters are 75% off!”

“You’re fucking serious?! How much?!”

“$200”

“Is that good?”

“Uhh, hell yes!”

“Do you need them?”

“Not until the Reserve Liquid Helium Dewar atop Ecto-1B gives out, but they’re useful to have. I mean, the one on there now is only 60 litres, 100 litres of Liquid Helium would be very useful to have.”

“Why do you _need_ 100 litres of Liquid Helium?”

“Why do we _not_ need 100 litres of Liquid Helium?”

“You’re such a weirdo.”

“I know, thank you.”

“Oh, speaking of, I think you forgot your warning label on one of the canisters.”  
“Whaaat? Which label? I carefully made sure that everything is there.”

“The one which reads ‘WARNING: PARTS MAY FALL OFF’.”

“Oh, that’s not _that_ important.”

“Holtz, that’s super important. What if it falls off and we cause a car crash?”

“Ohh…kaaay…but I doubt that’ll happen.”

“Just add it; or get Abby or Patty to add it. And I also don’t think you have your ‘STAY BACK 500 FT’ sticker attached to the back of Ecto-1B.”

“Fuuuck’s saaake. At least I’ve added two new ones – ‘DANGER DO NOT FOLLOW’ and ‘ALWAYS ON DUTY KEEP BACK’ – to the silver trimming below the back door.” You quickly WhatsApp Abby and ask her to attach the ‘STAY BACK’ sticker to the left hand side of the back door and the ‘PARTS MAY FALL OFF’ sticker to the side of the silver canister. You ask her to check that the ‘DANGER DO NOT TOUCH’ and ‘RADIOACTIVE’ stickers are attached to the hydrogen tank and send the old School colon-and-parenthesis smile. Abby responds quickly and simply puts ‘On it.’

The film finishes and you both put on your PJs, having noticed the temperature drop in the room and snuggle each other under the covers.

* * *

Erin wakes up sometime mid-afternoon to her phone vibrating somewhere in the room. She sits up, stretches and rubs her face. She looks about her to see how dishevelled the room is from your feisty 4am sex session. She tuts, chuckles softly to herself and gets up to search for her phone. Stubbing her toe on your suitcase, which has your clothes strewn over and in, spilling out of the top, she curses under her breath, but continues her search.

 _“Hello”_ she whispers.

 _“Hey Erin, darling. It’s Karen. We’re at the family doctor and Jane has Chickenpox. They’ve given her some Camomile Lotion and told us to smother her head to toe in the stuff, to stop her itching. The temperature was a side-effect before the spots broke out; she’s a lot cooler, but is fussing and nuzzling a lot. No need to worry, we’ll take care of her, and if we need an extra set of hands, we’ve got your parents, or Abby and Patty. She’s had all of her jabs, just missed this one. She ideally should have had the Varicella Vaccine between 12 and 15 months, but Doctor Martin says because she’s had the chickenpox after 1, it isn’t necessary to have the jab, but if you want to give her one, to wait until she is between 4 to 6 years of age; this is normally the booster jab, but it can be her first. He said there is nothing to worry about and that it will go on its own, but if we want to speed up the process, he has suggested an oatmeal or baking soda bath, sugar-free popsicles and to make sure she wears mittens to stop her itching. She also isn’t allowed to be in kindergarten until it has disappeared, in case she passes it to the other children; Mr Smarts said she caught it off a boy called Daniel, when they were playing with the ‘Lego’ together. Mr Smarts will make sure that she has her work sent home, so she can catch up, but basically she needs to be homeSchooled, which can be for up to two weeks. I am more than happy to homeSchool her, as that’s how I brought Jillian and her brothers up, but of course, it’s yours, and her choice. Oh, she’s crying, I have to go. Goodbye.”_ Karen hangs up.

You sit up and kiss Erin’s bare shoulder, before wrapping your arms around her stomach, giving her a backwards hug. You kiss the scratches across her back and down her spine, before tracing the spinal scratch with your index fingertip. “Sorry I clawed you.”

“It’s fine.” Erin says, sounding distant.

You tilt your head and nuzzle your way through her arm, so your head is in the crook of her elbow. Looking like a severed head on a Halloween costume, you poke out your tongue and act like a corpse, trying to make Erin smile. When she doesn’t break, you remove your head from her arm and scoot yourself to the side of the bed, placing your feet on the carpet, next to hers. “Uh-oh. What’s the crux of it, doll?”

“Jane has the Chickenpox and pretty much needs to be off School for two weeks.”

“Two weeks, you’re joking?”

“I wish I was. Mr Smarts is gonna sent work to your parent’s house and Karen’s offered to homeSchool her.”

“As much as I’d like to protest, I didn’t really go to School, for years, so we might have to let her. She might keep nagging us if we don’t allow her to immerse our daughter in the fine establishment of Mom’s kitchen table.”

“You happy with that?”

“Do we have a choice?”

“My parents, or Abby and Patty.”

“I don’t wanna bother Abs or Pat; they’ll have too much shit on their plate dealing with ghosts without our asses being there. Can’t lumber them with our child.”

“Well, if necessary, we can split the days with both our folks. That way she can see both sets of grandparents and we won’t be completely reliant on your mother.”

“That’s a good idea. I’m gonna go shower, can I leave you to arrange it?”

“Sure, I don’t really trust you to arrange it, without getting into an argument, or procrastinating.”

“Heh, that’s fair.”

* * *

You’re just getting out the taxi as Erin hands over some Euros. As you close the door, you’re in the view of a breath-taking building. “Oh, my God. Oh, my God!” you say over exaggerated.

“What? What? Tell me.” Erin says, in slight panic.

“That building is _FUCKING_ beautiful.”

Erin closes her eyes to stop herself from sighing out of frustration, before opening them and looking up at the museum. “Oh shit. That _is_ stunning. I understand your excitement now.”

“I wasn’t being weird with my exclamation.”

“I know, but I got a bit panicked, due to the manner in which you spoke.”

“Ohhh, soooorryyy.” You say in a childlike manner; a way you oftentimes regress to, usually without realising. “So, this is the Paris Museum of Modern Art. If it’s this good on the outside, it must be incredible on the inside. C’mon, let’s go.” You take the steps two at a time and wander across the expanse, passing a large water feature, with a stone woman, lounging naked, on one corner. You take a quick look at it, but find yourself still moving towards the towering columns, which are similar to the Acropolis in Greece. Once inside the vast, open space, you purchase two tickets, and find yourself meandering through the crowd, pulling Erin along by her sleeve. You enter an open-plan room, with colourful floor-to-ceiling artwork, depicting the culture of France. You stare at various people and shapes; building painted onto the surface and stand, mouth agape, clutching Erin’s waist. You make no sound, as you move around, a foot at time, to stare at more colourful paintings. Erin smiles at the silence which has befallen you and looks at your mesmerised face. Your mouth is still open, but your eyes are full of wonderment and awe. You notice how largely quiet this room is and figure this is a place of escape from the everyday, the ordinary, the bland. Unwanted thoughts float into your head and you begin to question your own life and wonder if it too will follow a path of blandness; will you give up busting ghosts, and settle down, properly, into motherhood, or will you always be a Ghostbuster and spend more time in the lab than at home, leaving Erin to be the breadwinner? You’re shocked at your own thoughts, and break the silence.

“So what happens when we get home?”

Erin looks at you and tilts her head. “What do you mean, honey?”

“I’ve just thought that this room is so beautiful and quiet, it’s like an escape. And then I started to worry about our future.”

“What do you mean ‘worry about our future’?”

“Well, are we gonna be busting ghosts forever, or are we gonna settle down and quit our day jobs? Or is one of us gonna be a stay-at-home, whilst the other, probably me, spends more time working, than being at home? Like how does having Jane affect our work and our play? What if I get so wrapped up in work, that I’m like the useless Dad who never goes to the kids’ soccer game; or the useless Mom who is always in the office, working a dead-end job and getting hit on by the boss? Or what happens if you get back into teaching, and I run out of things to make, break and dissect and then I have no purpose, except to raise Jane by myself, but I do such a shitty job, cos I can barely look after myself, let alone a three year old?”

“Honey, where’s this all come from?”

“I honestly don’t know, but I’ll tell you that I’m scared and worried, and I’m scared you’re gonna leave me, cos I’m so useless and have no ordinary life skills.”

“Babe, I’m never gonna leave you, I’ve told you this a million times. And you do have life skills; you just need a little nudge and a spoonful of motivation.”

“But what if I lose that motivation, and I become, I dunno, a waste of space?”

“You might lose motivation, we all do, but I’m here to support you and you never have been a waste of space. Look on the bright side, you’re a munitions expert, you could apply for CERN, if we choose to quit the Ghostbusters, which I’m not suggesting we do that, by the way, emphasis on the ‘ _if’_ , but let us not put that into the Universe, right now.”

“I just suddenly feel lost and overwhelmed and like I’m drowning.”

“Drowning how? With me? With us?”

“No, no, no, God no. Eri, I love you with all my heart, with all my mind, with all my body and with all my soul. That will never, ever, _ever_ change. I just feel, I dunno, like maybe Ghostbusting isn’t a career. Like, maybe, I should learn a new skill, or go back to teaching, or do something useful with my life.”

“Okay, first of all, Ghostbusting _is_ a career – you and Abby made it so, and you wouldn’t have been doing it for the last 6 or so years. Second of all, you’re extremely talented, and I don’t think being a professor is what you _really_ want to do; is it? Third of all, everything you do for me and the girls _is_ useful and everything you do for Jane is useful. Don’t forget that just having a daughter with me is skilful and a challenge, but there isn’t anyone else I’d rather take on that challenge with. We’re about as equipped as a Freshman, but we have both our parents behind us, pushing us, helping us, and developing us and with you by my side, I don’t care how many times we fuck up in raising her, as long as I’m fucking up with you. _Please_ don’t ever think you’re useless, or floundering. We all have days where we don’t think we’re good enough, but we are all good at something; none of us will be good at everything, but let me tell you what I know. You are the kindest, sweetest, and most loving and caring individual I’ve ever met, with a huge heart. You’re crazy and immature at times, but that’s what I love about you, because you keep me occupied and I’m a _lot_ less anal about things than before. Not only do you have a big heart, but you’re overflowing with passion and love and you don’t stop. You have an idea, and you go for it; you don’t take no for an answer, and if someone knocks you back, you leap forward and knock them back harder. You fight for things you believe in, like our career, like having your ban from the library lifted, like fighting to have Ecto-1B. You work harder than anyone I’ve ever met, or ridiculously little sleep and whatever you do, you don’t stop, you don’t quit and even if you’re having a shitty day, you put on a brave face, take a couple of deep breaths, and shine like a motherfucking star; you’re a hot and radiant as the sun – not just in looks, but in personality too and you are one hell of a lover. I want you to remember this, on your good days and your bad days: I am _not_ going anywhere. We’re on this journey together and if you’re struggling, or feel lost, then lean on me, literally and figuratively and we will come up with a plan to push through, over, around whatever it is which is holding you back. I know you struggle with your conditions, but they make you unique, and I would not have it any other way. I’d rather have 10 of you than one of Phil any day. So, please, please tell me, what’s going on, why do you feel like this? And ‘I dunno’ isn’t an answer; be honest with me.”

“I just don’t want our lives to become bland and boring, and I don’t want nothing to do and I don’t want to fail as a parent or a partner. I’m just scared that as Jane gets older, I’m gonna let her down and cock up – I don’t know how, but I _feel_ like something is gonna happen that’s gonna make me a disappointment. I don’t know how or why or when, I just have this horrible sinking feeling; that’s what I mean by drowning. I feel like something bad is gonna happen and I can’t control it.”

“Our lives will not become bland and boring; you’re not bland and boring and neither am I. I might be sensible, but I’m a thousand times less boring with you than I was with Phil. Again, we will fuck up, but you have me, our parents and Abby and Patty to help us. You won’t let her down and you won’t be a disappointment. Have you had this feeling before?”

“Only six times.” You say, hanging your head.

“And in those six times, how did you feel?”

“Hopeless, empty, drowning, dark, numb.” You reply, avoiding eye contact.

“Aw, baby, that sounds like Depression. Do we need to go to the doctors?”

“Well, I have been meaning to update my ADHD medicine and my antidepressants, buuut, I kinda forgot.”

“Well, when did they run out?”

“Um…the Adderall ran out a couple of months ago and I stopped taking my antidepressants about a month after Jane was born.”

“Ohh, Holtzy, why?” Erin replies sadly.

“Because Jane was here and I wanted to be normal and she made me very happy.”

“You are normal.”

“I don’t feel it.”

“None of us do, but you shouldn’t just stop taking them. Was there any left?”

“Just the one, which I took when she was a new-born, but I didn’t go back to the doctors, to renew the prescription. Those things are expensive, yano! It’s not like in the UK, where they have the NHS and can get them for free. Sometimes I wish we had that.”

“Well, we did have Obama Care.”

“I know, I’m on it; still not free medication, though.”

“True, but if they help you? And besides, what is ‘normal’ anyway? We’re all very different and unique and everyone suffers with some form of mental health. Don’t forget, I have OCD and Anxiety.”

“Yeah, and I have Asperger’s, Dyspraxia, ADHD and Depression. Like, seriously, fuck my life, right. I mean, what the hell did I do in my past life to get cursed with these?”

“Hang on, no! They’re not curses, that’s utter bullshit. Whoever told you that is a liar. They’re not curses, defects or disabilities. Don’t you dare believe that.”

“I know they’re not curses, but when I feel really low then I think that. Babe, I, er, I wanna go home.”

“But we just got here?”

“I know, I just, I need to cry and I don’t wanna be here, surrounded by tourists. I need my bed and a good sob.”

“Okay, I understand. When you say ‘home’ do you mean the hotel, or do you wanna get a flight back to the US?”

“I don’t know anymore. Can we just go outside for some fresh air, and then I can decide.”

“Yeah, of course.” She takes your hand, and leads you back outside into the dazzling sun. You screw up your eyes until Erin hands you your sunglasses. You put them on and run towards the water feature, leaving Erin to catch up. You sit on the ledge, next to the naked statue and turn your body, so you’re leaning against her, feet spread out along the ledge. Erin reaches you, lifts your legs, sits down and places them on her lap. The pair of you lapse into silence and just enjoy the warmth and the birdsong.

You take a deep breath in and exhale slowly before apologising. “I dunno what that was, I’m sorry for being Negative Nancy.”

“I’ve had plenty of days like that, babe.”

“You have? Well why didn’t you say?”

“Because I prefer to deal with things on my own; that’s how I was brought up.”

“Okay, well let’s make a pact. I tell you when I’m feeling shitty, or low, or God forbid, suicidal, and you do the same, okay? Neither one of us is suffering in silence.”

“That’s a good deal. Now, what’s our plans?”

“Ring my Doctor.”

“And who’s your Doctor?”

“Wendy. Doctor, uhm, Jooo---Oh, Jones. Doctor Wendy Jones. I just know her as Wendy.”

“So she’s your Doctor who has given you your meds before?”

“Yup, she’s my family doctor. Diagnosed me with everything, and texts me when my medication is due.”

“So you did receive a text from her about your new update?”

“Uhm, yes, but I ignored it.”

“Oh, Holtz, what’re we gonna do with you, man?”

“Get me back on them, and don’t shout at me.”

“I’m not gonna shout, babe.”

“Okay, well, don’t be mad.”

“I’m not mad, just concerned for your mental health and wellbeing.”

“Okay, well, uhm, thank you for your concern.”

“Always, sweetheart. You’re my partner, my lover, my life and I want you to be happy.”

“Thank you. And you too are also my life, love, wife and my whole Universe. And I also want you to be happy.”

“When I’m with you, I’m the happiest I’ve ever been.” Erin says, stroking your shins. “Now, are we going back in, back to the hotel, or home?”

“I’m gonna be a dickhead, right now, but I’m still feeling a bit overwhelmed and stuff. Can we just go back to the hotel, and find some trashy TV to watch?”

“Yeah, sure thing, and how about we get room service again?”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Neither am I, but we will be soon.”

You sigh and place your feet on the ground. “Have I spoiled the vacation?”

“Absolutely not, but we’re not going anywhere until I’ve rung Wendy.”

You sigh loudly as Erin reaches for her phone. “What’s the number?”

“She’s on speed dial on mine; she’s my go-to when I’m stressed.”

“Don’t you have a therapist?”

“She kinda is. I know she isn’t licensed, as she’s the family doctor, but I don’t trust anyone else. So she’s my doctor, my therapist, my psychologist, my prescription writer and a friend. I’ve known her since I was 6 when I was diagnosed with the Dyspraxia and 13 when I was diagnosed with the ADHD and Asperger’s. I’m lucky that I had all three diagnosed as a kid, not everyone is so lucky!”

“So pretty much your best friend, ey?”

“Yeah, summit like that.”

She puts her phone back in her handbag and searches for yours. When she can’t find it, you hand it to her. “It’s ringing.”

“Oh hello, is that Doctor Jones? Uhm, yes, hi, I’m Erin—”

“ _She doesn’t know we’re married, so say Gilbert, calling on behalf of Holtzmann.”_ You whisper, interrupting her.

“I’m Erin Gilbert. I’m calling on behalf of Jillian Holtzmann.”

“ _Oh hello. Gosh, that’s not a name I’ve heard in a while. How is she, is she doing alright?”_ Doctor Jones says.

Erin hands you the phone, and as much as you protest with wide eyes and shaking your head, you still have to take it. “Hey Wendy.”

_“Jillian! So good to hear from you! How are you keeping?”_

“Uhhh…umm…well, uhm, I’ve got to be honest with you. I, er, I, uhm…I, I, I, I…” you sigh, suddenly struggling to find the words. You screw up your face, palms sweaty and hand the phone back to Erin. _“I can’t.”_ you say, as you hand it over.

“Sorry, Erin again. Holtzmann hasn’t been taking her medication and I believe it’s been over 3 years since she last had antidepressants and her Adderall ran out a couple of months ago.”

_“Well that explains why I’ve not seen hide nor hair of her. How’s the Depression?”_

“Well, in all honesty, madam here didn’t actually tell me that one. I knew she had ADHD, on top of her Asperger’s, but also recently found out about the Dyspraxia and the Depression. She’s a fickle one.”

“ _Well, that’s true. I’ve known her since she was 6, and she was a right mare to even take her meds, let alone come in with her mother to come and get them; of course, her mother never came, and it was usually a neighbour, or some random she had paid to pretend to be her mother. I learnt all the tricks, but she didn’t have an easy upbringing. She and her brothers muddled through, but somehow, Holtzmann got the raw end of the deal; I think being the only girl didn’t help, but irrespective of that, I’m glad you’ve called. Has she had many depressive episodes, or manic episodes, or anxious episodes, or even any meltdowns?”_

“She’s had a fair few meltdowns over the years, and when you say ‘manic’, do you mean—”

_“Hyper.”_

“Oh God, she’s always hyperactive. Can’t sit still, God love her. She’s pacing now, as we speak. As for the depressive outbursts…Holtz?” you shrug your shoulders. “She’s just shrugged, and I’m unsure whether that means, she doesn’t know or she’s lost track…Okay, she’s nodding. That isn’t a good sign.”

“ _No, it isn’t. Any thoughts of suicide?”_

“Uhm, Holtz, uhm, suicidal thoughts?”

You sigh. “Yes, I’ve had them; no I’ve not had them recently. No, I’ve never self-harmed, no I wouldn’t kill myself. No, I don’t want to kill myself, I just want the darkness to disappear; it’s really not that bad, I just feel lost and like I can’t do anything. Self-care goes out of the window. Like when you went away, I missed you so much that I barely ate and didn’t shower for almost the entire week and I nearly forgot about the chinchillas; I think Abby came around one day and Patty another, and I think they literally had to feed me, but other than that, nope, I’m good.”

Erin sighs, sadness filling her. “Did you get all that, or do I need to repeat?”

_“No, I heard it. She spoke loud enough.”_

“So what do we need to do?”

“ _Well, she needs to come in for her review because we need to assess the situation and see whether her old medication still works, or whether it needs updating. You can come with her, if you’d like, because I know how difficult it is for her. My youngest has Autism and is non-verbal and she’s 11.”_

“Blimey, that must be a challenge.”

_“Yes, it can be, it’s exhausting, but I wouldn’t change her for the world. When Holtzmann regresses, I see a lot of my daughter in her.”_

“Regresses, how?”

“ _When she has a meltdown, and ends up rocking or crying, or spinning, and she doesn’t talk. I’ve known her to become violent and lash out because she’s just so frustrated. Mom said she had a lot of tantrums growing up and caused plenty of scenes in the supermarket, but that’s just typical of a child on the spectrum who is overstimulated.”_

“Oh, I see. Well, we’ve had a couple of those as an adult. Not full on fists banging on the floor tantrums, but she’s yelled and cried and lashed out at me; unintentionally, but it has happened twice. People are shocked at her behaviour, as she is in her 30s, but what can you do? So I bought her a t-shirt which says ‘Society Says I’m Autistic, But God Says I’m Perfect’ so if we go shopping, then she wears that. It kinda sucks that we have to label it, but it stops dirty looks and looks of shame, disappointment and embarrassment.”

_“Sadly labels are a part of our society. Anyway, let’s book a date in the diary to sort out her medication. When’s best for you?”_

“Er, well, we’re in France at the minute, until 27th July, but we’ll be back after that.”

_“Let me just check my diary … mmhmm… well, okay, how about 1 August at 11am?”_

“Let me ask … Holtz … 1 August, 11am any good for you?”

“I would need to check my diary, but probably.”

“Sorry, I just need to check Holtzy’s diary …” Erin briefly puts Doctor Jones on loudspeaker and clicks on your calendar application; checking it together you see that that day is free. You roll your eyes and nod slightly. “Yes, that’s good, thank you. We’ll both be there.”

_“Right, that’s in my diary. I’ll text her the Friday before to remind her and again at 9am on the day. I look forward to having her back in my office. Thank you Erin, au revoir.”_

“No, thank you for being so gracious. Au revoir.” Erin hangs up and hands the phone back to you.

You make a silly noise and pout.

“We’re going and that’s final. Now, let’s get some lunch and go and chill.”

“Uhh, I kinda changed my mind. I wanna go back in.”

Erin sighs. “Sure?”

“Yeah, I mean, we paid for it, might as well enjoy it.”

“That’s true. Right, back in to see the art. If you’re gonna be like a cat though…”

“Meaning?”

“You wanna go in and then you wanna be outside, but then you wanna be in, but you wanna be outside, so you stand in the doorway.”

“Heh. No, in this time. Two hours tops, it looks busy.”

“There’s got to be a café right?”

“Probably.” You shrug again and wander off towards the entrance, leaving Erin to catch up once more – you have a really bad habit of just leaving her standing there; too impatient to wait, nothing to do with rudeness.

She catches up to you, and tugs at your hoodie. “Whaaaaat?” you whine.

“You have an awful habit of wandering off, leaving me behind.”

“I’m not wandering off; you’re just not keeping up.”

Erin narrows her eyes at you.

You smile sheepishly at her and take her hand. “I’m sorry, doll. I just get so impatient.”

“I know you do, but it’s sometimes frustrating that you don’t stop to enjoy things, cos you run to one thing, call me over, and run to the next thing when I arrive. And sometimes, I want to enjoy the thing with you.”

“Sorry.” You say, looking down at your Vans. You kick at a stone, and thrust your hands in your pockets.

“Hey, now don’t be upset. I’m just letting you know. I get that you’re run by a motor, but I’m not, and it takes a while to register what you’ve said, or to wander over to you. Not because I’m a slow old fart, but because I like to digest things.”

“Sometimes I wish I didn’t have a motor, and I was able to move at a more ‘normal’ speed, and that my mind ran a little slower. I’ve got so many things going through my head at once, and I am overly aware of everything around us, that I cannot process everything; I can’t focus. I’ve had like 6 ideas pop into my head in the space of five minutes, and I can’t trap any of them; I don’t know where they came from, but one was to do with the Shock Blaster, another to do with the car, another to do with, ahem, _kinky_ stuff we could try, and then I’m thinking about Jane and her Chickenpox, and my mother, and my father being back in my life, and your parents, and if Abby and Patty are missing us and how it’s really sunny and that there’s a sparrow in the trees to our left and that it’s singing, but I’m wondering what it would be saying if it could talk and I also have a song in my head; I don’t know how to make it stop. I love it, I hate, I just can’t take it…Urgh, and that’s lyrics to a song, and that’s how I feel at the minute, and I’m also excited that we’re here, and still trying to process the fact that a) we’re in France, b) you’re my wife, c) this is our honeymoon and d) I wonder what would happen if we hadn’t met, or if you had got with Kevin and I trust that you’re not going anywhere, and I believe it, and I know I’m not going anywhere, and I _promise_ you that. And right now, there’s a couple of American tourists, with the American flag sticking out of the one’s backpack, walking past us in three…two…one.” You say, whirling to the left, as a heavyset man, wearing a Reebok backpack, with the American flag on a stick poking out the side, shorts and a plain blue t-shirt, holding hands with an equally heavyset woman, wearing a polka dot dress and sandals, walks past you both.

Erin waits until they are past you and out of ear shot. “Okay, but how did you see them? I didn’t even see them, until they walked past us.”

“I see things others don’t see, or before others see them…I also saw the reflection in that man’s sunglasses.” You say, subtly pointing, with two fingers across your chest, at a man, wearing a white suit, standing a foot to the right of Erin, talking on the phone in French. Erin raises her eyebrows and shakes her head in bemusement.

“Might it be a good idea to write down your ideas, before you forget them?”

“Oh, I’ve already forgotten them.” You reply, nonchalantly.

“Have you actually?”

“I told you, I’ve always got so much going on in my head.”

“I’ve also just realised, you’re on Adderall, right? But when Patty and I tried you with Adderall, you just put them all in a Pez dispenser and popped them like candy, but they did little to slow you down. How is it working now then?”

“Stronger dosage. Wendy tested me with Adderall Immediate Release at 5mg, which is what Patty gave me, but it did nothing, so she increased it to 10mg, but again nothing; I was still too hyper, unfocused and fidgety. My last dosage, which I’ve had since I was 15, was 15mg, but that _might_ need to be swapped to XR, because the crashes with IR are really bad, and XR has a less significant comedown. And I’m an adult, so it can probably be higher again. Although IR is released quicker, XR sits in your system for up to 10 hours, so that’s what I need, I think, especially if I need to sleep. We’ll see what she says.”

“You’re rather informed, aren’t you? Fountain of Knowledge.”

“Well, I do soak up useless information, like a dry sponge.”

“I love it when you can just give me a complete rundown of anything; you’re like a walking computer, and you have a lot of definitions stacked up – you’re like a dictionary.”

“I’m a walking computer, dictionary, and if I’m really on it, I can be a thesaurus too, but I’m too unfocused and full of too much information to become one of those. My lexicographical brain is a bit kaput right now. Sorry, babe.”

“Honey, lexicographic is Mathematics. It’s the order of words based on the alphabetical order of their component letters. Do you mean ‘lexicology’, which is the study of the form, meaning and behaviour of words, or do you mean ‘lexicon’, which is the vocabulary of a person, language or branch of knowledge?”

“Ohhhh, yeeeah, I mean the latter. Lexicon; as we’re talking about a thesaurus.”

“You have a Physics degree and will have used Maths extensively to complete your degree, _how_ on _earth_ did you mix a Mathematics and an English term up?”

“They’re similar. Lexico…It’s the same word…”

“It _really_ isn’t.” Erin says, tilting her head at you and pushing her sunglasses to the end of her nose.

“But they all start with ‘Lexico’ so you can understand my confusion. Shush, I’m a dumbass.”

“You’re not a dumbass; I just find it amusing how you can muddle the two up.”

“Hey, in all fairness, lexicographic refers to _alphabetized_ words and the alphabet and words are English, so in theory, they are relatives; like cousins…maybe.” You say, shrugging and putting your hands in your pockets again.

“Alright, okay, you have a point there. So, less talking about Lexico, and more enjoying artico.”

“‘Artico’ isn’t a word.”

“I know, I was trying to make it rhyme, being a little silly.”

“Oh, fair enough. Yes, to the art we must. See it we do.” You say, trying to impersonate Yoda.

“I’m not even gonna ask.” Erin says, linking your arm.

“Hey, babe.”

“Yes, sweetie.”

“D’you know, that we’ve been married for exactly four days…” you look at your watch, _12:40_ “…40 minutes and, erm, 24 seconds and counting.”

“Hmm, no I didn’t know that. I love how precise you are. Does that mean you’re going to tell me at precisely 12pm on 16 July next year that we’ll have been married for 1 year?”

“Uhhhhm…. Nooooo?” You lie.

“Holtzy, it’s okay if you wanna be precise.”

“No, butitreallyisn’tthough. You say, quickly. “I’ll remind you on the _day_ , but not the exact hour.”

“Honey, I’m not likely to forget the day we got married.”

“We should get matching tattoos.”

“That’s random.”

“No, but really, we could, like, tattoo the date we got married, or the date we met. Or I could get a tattoo of Betsy’s name on my wrist.”

“Why, she was fine when we left her, or wasn’t she?”

“Uuuuuuuuuuuuhhhhhh… weeeeeeeeell, uuuuuuuhhh…. Sheeeee, uuuuuuh…kinda died.” You say, elongating and exaggerating every word, until the last two, saying them at a normal speed, as if to get the news over and done with.

“What, when?!” Erin says, with shock etched onto her face, mouth wide open, and eyes wide.

“Yeeeeaaah.” You say, staring at her, with your head sloping to one side. “Uhm, it was a month ago actually, I just didn’t get around to telling you and was preoccupied on the wedding planning and the honeymoon, that I didn’t really stop to process; I haven’t yet, not properly – haven’t even cried.”

“But, _how?!_ I mean, she was fine when we took her to the vets.”

“Uhh, she kinda _fell_ out of the cage.”

“Meaning you dropped her.”

“No, no, no actually, no. She did actually fall out of the cage. I mean, my back was turned for two seconds to get the food and she was the runt and the smallest and the baby and it was a big fall, from that shelf, well, not shelf, exactly, the perch thingy that the cage is situated on, and ohmyGod, Betsy died. Erin, my baby fur baby died.”

“Aww, sweetie.” Erin says, taking in your saddened face; the same look you gave her when she was doing the strange sexual handshake with Kevin and rubbing his chest.

It has suddenly dawned on you and you’re now blinking back tears that are threatening to fall. A large lump has made itself unwelcome and present in your throat and you try to swallow it. You find yourself choking up and stand there, chest compressing, like when you have the hiccups, eyes welling up. Erin pulls you into a huge hug as you purse your lips tightly together and let a single tear escape from the tear duct. She wraps you up tightly and you bury your head in her wavy red locks, and breathe in the familiar smell of coconut shampoo. You begin sniffling and Erin gently rubs your back. She glares at several passers-by and you just squeeze her tighter and tighter, without even realising it, restricting her chest and causing her to breathe with difficulty.

“Babe…” she manages to cough out. “Babe, too hard; you’re squishing my sternum” She taps you rapidly on the back and you release your grip, still crying quietly into her hair. She rubs your back, soothingly and whispers that it’ll “Be alright” into your ear, but it’s too much and you’re full waterworks now. Despite the tears being silent, your upper body jerks and Erin knows that you’ve broken down. “Alright, okay, shh, shh, shh, shh, hey, c’mon now. Breathe, baby girl. Breathe.”

With your breathing shallow and staccato, you sniff hard and dry your eyes before puffing out your cheeks, and forcing the air out. “I’m sorry that we’ve wasted 6€, but can we just go back to the hotel now. I’ve had enough, I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, that’s a good idea. I was gonna suggest that actually. What do you wanna do?”

“Curl up and cry myself to sleep.”

“Can I do anything to cheer you up?”

“Cuddle me as I cry and fall asleep.”

“Okay.”

Erin rings for a taxi and within minutes one arrives. You climb sombrely into the back and close the door, but not quite, so Erin has to reopen it and shut it properly. Erin pays the female driver up front and then the car lapses into silence, with you, leaning your head between the window and the headrest, staring up at the sky.

A warm hand is placed upon your knee and it takes you a moment to register that it’s Erin’s. You don’t look at her, but continue staring at the buildings, not really taking in their beauty and grandeur. The loss of your first chinchilla has hit you like a tonne of bricks and it’s shaken you to the core. As if on autopilot, you find your right hand moving down and away from your stomach, to her hand on your knee. You place it on the back of it, and you feel Erin move it so it’s palm up, and you’re touching palm to palm. You leave it there for a few moments, before wriggling your fingers in between hers, and curling them under her hand. You feel her fingertips on the back on your hand, and focus on her touch; the connection of your skin on her skin, which is radiating warmth. Sitting upright in the chair, you stare out the front window watching the license plates and break-lights, unblinking, transfixed, and looking like a zombie. Erin grows increasingly worried about your lack of communication and gives your hand a gentle squeeze. When you don’t reciprocate, she breaks the silence.

“How about this, we go back, have lunch in the hotel, which will make you feel somewhat better and then we cuddle and watch TV?”

“Yes to the first part, yes to the second part, but insofar as we curl up together, your arms wrapped around me, pressed into my back, keeping me warm and secure.”

“That can be arranged.”

You squeeze her hand back, and finally blink, as if coming down from an astral plain, and rejoining the Land of the Living. You sigh slowly and turn to look at her. You smile meekly; lick your lips and lean over to kiss her. A brief, but well-intentioned kiss. She grabs the front of your t-shirt as you begin to lean back into your chair and kisses you for a little while longer. You swallow as she releases your clothing, and you lean back into the middle seat, resting your head on her shoulder. She strokes your temple in circles, a technique she has learnt, which settles you and keeps you calm and content.


	40. Chapter 38

Before too long you arrive outside L’hôtel Marquis Faubourg Saint-Honoré. Unbuckling your seatbelt, you check to make sure there are no cars, before swinging open the door and stepping out on to the road side. Erin is already on the curb as you approach the rear of the car. Just as you step on to the curb, the taxi pulls away, and the Heavens open; heavy, large raindrops cascading down and immediately soaking you to the skin. Having decided to not wear any form of bra, your white t-shirt is now see-through and with the cold rain, your nipples are erect. Erin raises an eyebrow and stares at you hungrily.

“Okay, so this is just like _The Notebook_ or some other Nicholas Sparks Romance movie. Also, honey, your t-shirt is see-through. I mean, I’m not complaining, but I don’t want people to be making eye contact with that area of your body.”

You quickly zip up your hoodie, all the way and push your sleeves up to your elbows, before pulling them down as your arms are cold. “Fuck me, this weather! What the hell? Is this like a mirroring of my mood, or something? Really, God? I’m gutted as it is and you _had_ to make it rain; what is this, some sort of metaphor for my life? Sheesh.”

“Oi, doth thou protest too much?”

“Well, hello, Shakespeare. Yes, because my ‘do is gonna be ruined and yours is already flat.”

“I literally don’t care right now, this is so romantic, and you’re complaining.”

“How in God’s name is being in the pouring rain ‘romantic’?!”

“Have you never seen _The Notebook_?”

“No, why?”

“Oh, my God. You’ll love it. There’s a scene where this guy and this girl – I know, heteronormative – are getting super close with each other, and he leans in, to kiss her, and it suddenly starts pouring with rain, but they keep on kissing anyway.”

“Okay, so not only are they ill-equipped in the clothing department, they’re also keen on getting pneumonia in the rain?”

“Oh shut your kvetching and kiss me. Now. Here, right now. On this Parisian street. In the rain. In the City of Love; be romantic, be spontaneous, live a little.”

“I can’t be spontaneous when you’ve ordered me to kiss you.”

“Okay, well, be a little unspontaneous. Just kiss me, please? It’s a fantasy of mine, to be kissed in the rain in a gorgeous European City.”

“Oh, well, when you put it like that...” you close the gap between you, cup her face in your hands, stroke her jaw with both thumbs simultaneously and lock eyes with her. There’s a twinkle in them and you see the corners of her lips twitch upwards. “I love you so much, yano, I know I tell you that every day, but it’s true, and I’m really glad we got married and came here.” You kiss her on the nose, before locking lips with her; the warmth of her lips, and tongue, a stark contrast to the cold rain and coolness of your rain-soaked skin. You shiver as much cold, as exhilarated and press your body into hers. Her hands wander down to your hips and one hand slides into your back pocket, lightly squeezing your ass. Your own hands begin to wander from her face and down her back, your right thumb coming to rest under her bra.

In this moment, your worries, stresses, grieving and disappointment dissipates and you’re filled with a new kind of hunger; a sexual appetite and you want her right now. Snapping back to reality you release your hands from her and stop tonguing her.

“Why’d you stop?” Erin asks, disapprovingly.

You nuzzle into her and whisper into her ear. “ _Because I’m suddenly very horny, and I want to take you right now, but then I remembered we’re in public, so I had to stop before I did something bad.”_

“ _Bad how?”_ she whispers back.

 _“Like undo your bra in the street, kind of bad.”_ You say, untangling yourself from her hair and smirking. She smirks back at you and faintly shakes her head.

“Okay, well let’s get out of the rain, I’m freezing now.”

“I know as I can see the gumdrops through your top.”

“They’re not _that_ small.”

“Well would you rather have large…” you lower your voice “… _nipples?”_

Erin shakes her head, takes you by the hand and the two of you walk through the automatic doors into the vast, marbled reception area. Shoes squeaking on the floor, you look sheepishly at the receptionist who tuts and points at a young gentleman. He appears with a wet floor sign and places it in the middle of the path which you walked.

You shrug. “Il pleurs, et alors?” you ask rhetorically in a semi-rude tone of voice.

Erin squeezes your hand, and gives you a look.

You wander off to the elevator and once inside, with the doors closed, you resume your make out session. The doors slide open and a young couple, roughly in their 20s, steps in and smirks at you. You pull away from each other all embarrassed, and then the lad leans in to kiss his girlfriend on the lips. Within seconds she has pushed him against the wall and has one leg up and around him as if she is trying to mount him. You stare at them, with eyes wide, blinking a few times to clear your view of what’s happening. You turn to Erin and she mouths _“What the fuck?!”_ at you. You pull an awkward face, before mouthing _“I know.”_ As the lad starts pushing the girl’s top off, the elevator stops on your floor and you sidle past them, avoid all eye contact. Once the doors are shut, you burst out laughing, clutching your side and Erin’s arm for support. After your laughter, you clear your throat and stand upright, suddenly all serious.

“Oh, my God! Whaaat the fuuuck?” you ask rhetorically.

“That was _so_ embarrassing.” Erin replies, shaking her head.

“I’m not being funny, but that was so cringey, and not just because it was a hetero couple; that’s not the issue, it was the fact that she was _mounting_ him, like they were gonna just have a quickie with us in there with them.” You reply, eyes wide again and hand on your forehead.

“Our floor literally could not have come quicker; I genuinely think they’re having sex in that elevator.” Erin says, covering her mouth.

You release your head and start walking down the corridor, a few paces, before stopping and, for the first time in weeks, waiting for Erin to walk by your side.

Erin licks her lips and squints down at the carpet. “Uhm, babe, doesn’t this look like the carpet in _‘The Shining’?_ ”

“No, don’t. Stop it. That mooooviee, man. Nonononononono! No, don’t. That movie…uh-uh, nope; hard pass. Mhmh.” You shake your head vigorously.

“Don’t you like it?”

“I have watched it all of one time; I do not ever want to see it again. I don’t like it. I don’t do horror movies.”

“Really, babe? I thought you would love them. Yano, cadaver’s and stuff.”

“Ehhh, cadaver’s are useful, horror movies scary the beejesus out of me, and thrillers, ehhh, I can so _some_ thrillers, like _‘The Butterfly Effect’_ and horrors, like the original _‘Poltergeist’_ or _‘A Nightmare On Elm Street’_ , but I largely avoid them as I actually have a nervous disposition.”

“Oh, sweetie, why didn’t you tell me that?”

“Because it’s embarrassing? I don’t like jump scares. I don’t mind gore and blood, but jump scares; no thanks.”

“Is that why you always make an excuse to feed the chinchillas when I suggest watching a horror movie?”

“Yes, and because they need feeding…” you pout again and Erin pulls you in for a squeezing hug.

“I know, I know, I’m sorry. Hush little baby don’t you cry…”

“Daddy’s gon’ buy you a mockingbird?” You ask, forcing yourself out of the bone-crushing hug.

“What?” Erin says, furrowing her brow.

“Were you not singing Eminem?”

“Nooo, I…Ohhh, _‘Mockingbird’_ , yes, I remember now, it’s cos I said ‘hush little baby…’”

“Yessss! Eugh, I _love_ Eminem.”

“Really? Thought you were more 80s pop, disco and synth-pop.”

“Yeah, well that too. I listen to an eclectic range of music, darling.” You say, sniffing and rubbing your nose on the second knuckle of your index finger.

Erin looks at you, juts out her bottom lip and makes a non-verbal sound. “But let’s discuss that another day, I’d like to get out of these wet clothes, my jeans are starting to chafe.”

“Hooow? There’s nothing to you, you skinny bitch.”

“Okay, first of all, that is a bad stereotype, and second of all, wet jeans stick to your skin and rub when you walk and take _foe-ev-er_ to dry.”

You pull a face. “My bad.”

She shakes her head and fumbles with the key card in the lock. Her hands momentarily forget how to work and she drops the key card. Bending over to pick it up, you stand behind her, grab her hips, and push your pelvis into her backside, repeatedly. As she straightens up, you release her and purse your lips together.

“Uhh, okay, what was that?” she asks, turning around and backing into the door.

“That was me boning you like a guy.”

She furrows her brow again and narrows her eyes. “Okay, first of all, no self-respecting man ever just randomly grabs a girl like that, and you’re respectful and second of all, that is how creeps, who need their dicks chopped off, do that and third of all, you dry humping me was a weird turn on.”

Now it’s your turn to pull a face. “First of all, yes, _gentlemen don’t_ do that, fucking creeper misogynistic assholes do do that, and also lesbians who just wanna grab dat booteh, do that. And second of all, are you asking for anal?”

“At this point, I don’t really know what I want. I’m confused at why I liked that and also the fact that I _didn’t_ like that.”

“Because you’re bi and you’ve had anal before?”

“Well, once or twice, hence why I know there’s more erogenous zones there. Don’t worry, I know your rule; I won’t return the favour, and also won’t try to eat your ass again.”

“Thank you, but, uh, please can we discuss this inside?”

“Oh, right, sure, sure, yeah, shit, totally.” She opens the door and you walk in, stripping off as soon as you’re past her. “Holtz!” she exclaims, quickly checking no one is in the corridor, before shutting the door and turning the lock.

You turn to face her, nipples erect in the cool bedroom air, light grey boxers a darker shade, sticking to your skin. You peel them off and toss them over your shoulder. Standing there, hands on hips, you watch Erin’s face go from worried, to her biting her lip. She hurriedly begins pulling her clothes off, but finds her jeans to be a little problematic. Jumping on one leg, she tries to pull the jean leg over her foot, but it bunches up and she loses her balance, toppling over and hitting her shoulder on the door. She cries out in pain and you rush to her aid. You squat down and unfold the bottom of her jean leg, before pulling the other one down and off her. You go to help her up, but she just grabs your wait and pulls you, naked on top of her. Her chin smacks the top of your head and you wince. Before rubbing it better and adjusting your body position, so she can sit up.

“Aw gawd. Did I just chin you?”

“Yup, it’s fine.”

She kisses your head repeatedly as you position yourself so as to straddle her.

“Well halloo…”

“You know I love a good straddle.”

“Mmm.” She says, licking her lips.

You take her face in your hands, look her deep in the eyes and press your lips firmly to hers. You pull away, but insofar as to bite her lower lip, tugging it outwards slightly and causing her to inhale sharply in minor pain. You bear down on her neck, kissing it hard and passionately, nipping at the skin, before sucking at it; breaking your own ‘No Hickeys on the Neck’ rule. At this point you don’t care and you just want to make her feel good; nay, excellent.

She sucks air through her teeth in pleasure and lets out a small moan. “I thought you said no…”

“I know what I said; fuck it.” You say, kissing her harder and making her moan with a mix of pleasure and pain. You nip hard and pull at the flesh, before letting go and grinning, semi-evilly at the redness and the instant bruising. You kiss the shoulder she bashed and get slowly to your feet (to avoid another headrush) and help her to her feet. Spinning her around, you guide her towards the end of the bed before you push her roughly on it. With her feet dangling off the edge, you spread her legs, and immediately eat her out.

You stop for a breather and Erin shuffles her way up to the centre of the bed to starfish. She beckons you over and you clamber up the bed and crawl your way up the bed, hands and knees either side of her body. When you reach her, she grabs you behind your neck and carefully pulls you downwards, to give you a wet and sloppy kiss. You pull a disgusted face and she licks your cheek, before giggling giddily.

“You’re such a fucking freak, but I love you.”

She pulls you down again and mutters non-verbally in your ear, teasing you, before talking dirty to you. “ _I want you to bite me and caress my whole body. I want you to nibble my earlobe and my nipples and play with my clit. I want you to play with my clit until I’m wet and then I want you to eat me out and lick me soft. Lick me real good, and then, when I begin to climax, I want you to stop. Make me wait for it, right on the edge and then go again. Repeat this edging, make me beg for it. Make me soaking for you, make me whine and moan and breathe heavy; make me yours, control me, own me. Make me scream your name and squirt all over you.”_

You gulp audibly and find yourself straddling her again; you’re certainly turned on and wet now.

Leaning down, you kiss her neck, hard kisses, growing into hickeys. You bite down on her clavicle and make her suck air through her teeth. Kissing her neck again, you nibble her earlobe and breathe heavily into it, making the hairs on the nape of her neck stand up and a shiver run down her spine. You kiss her face, paying particular attention to her lips and the tip of her nose. You kiss her behind her right ear, and she blows air through her nose; an indication that kissing there has turned her on and she bites her lower lip in a sultry manner. You kiss down the right side of her neck and kiss along her jaw, before setting on her lips again. After two quick pecks, you grin at her and wink.

She exhales and smiles at you back. “God I love you.”

“I love you too; I keep telling you that you’re the best thing that’s happened to me, well, except getting my PhD, but, yano, that’s just being big-headed; so ya, you’re the best thing that’s happened to me.”

“You always find a way to make it about yourself, don’tcha?” she asks, shaking her head and chuckling.

“Yup, but you love me, sooo, yeah.” You reply, poking out your tongue, before locking lips with her again and French-kissing her. She sits up as you passionately engage, but you just push her down again, shaking your head. “Nuh-uh, you have to lie there and do as you’re told.”

“But I’m the one who gave you the ideas.”

“Okay, true, but I’m on top, and the alpha, so what I say, goes.”

“Oh really?”

“Yes, you’re a beta.”

“I can be alpha.”

“No, you _can_ be a top, but how many times have I been _on top_?”

“Okay, you have a point there.”

“I know I do, now shush, so Mama can take care of you.”

“Oh, so you’re Mama and not Daddy, eh?”

“Just wanted to switch it up.”

“Oh, alright then, that’s fair.”

“Okay, well, I’ve just thought of something.”

“Really, _now_ , as we’re about to do it?”

“Yes, so my concept is this. You sit in my lap, on my strap-on, while I cover your neck in hickeys. You’re not allowed to move, just feel filled and my lips and tongue on your neck. I reach my hand down to play with your clit and you’re not allowed to start riding me until you say ‘please’ prettily enough.”

“Oh good Lord, that’s hot as hell.”

“Wanna do it?”

“Uh, _yeees._ Silly question, gorgeous.”

“Cool, but I’m not gonna strap you until you’ve cum at least twice.”

Erin sighs, but nods as she does so.

You continue kissing her, making her skin sore and inflamed with another hickey, before kissing down to her breasts. You gently start sucking on the right nipple, whilst you play with the left one; pinching it, rubbing it, even lightly tapping it to get it hard. You begin to nibble on the pink cap, getting it hard and making her wince and moan. After sufficient time has passed, you begin sucking the left nipple, before nibbling on it.

With both of them hard, you play with them simultaneously as you kiss down her stomach, slowly licking your way down to her waistline. You kiss across to each hip, pausing to lick them sexily, before continuing your descent. She breathes out, a wild sense of euphoria, as your tongue makes contact with her clit. You make short, quick movements and instantaneously her breathing becomes shallow and rapid. You continue playing with her nipples, keeping her aroused and then cease, to concentrate on pleasuring her orally.

You flick your tongue over her clit quickly, before slowing down to make circular motions. Erin begins to moan and you take it upon yourself to lick her whole vagina, spreading the feeling out to each nerve ending situated beneath the surface.

As her moans get louder and more intense, you adjust your speed, but don’t come up for air. You swallow some of the juices which are secreted and tilt your head ever so slightly to have more oxygen into your lungs, keeping a steady pace and speed going.

You feel Erin’s legs tighten around your head, and realise she is about to cum, so you stop licking to come up for air, and to let the feeling dissipate. Her legs relax and you take the opportunity to sit up. You smirk at her, and she stares at you wide eyed.

“You did tell me too.”

“Oh I know; I just got so into it. I was quite close.”

“I know, you were squeezing my head with your thighs; nearly had to tap out.”

Erin giggles and shrugs. “Sorry.”

“You will be.” You say, half-smiling.

You give Erin a bit of a breather, licking your lips, tasting her sweet flavour on your tongue before giving her a gentle kiss on the lips and leaning down for a second round of cunnilingus. You repeat what you had done before, very little variation, as you know what works and soon she is moaning loudly again. Once more, her thighs squeeze your head and this time, you do have to tap out.

Tapping her hip repeatedly, Erin finally senses there is something wrong and opens her legs wider. You give her a few good licks, before lifting your head. “Thank you.” You say, breathlessly. “I was really struggling to breathe then; it’s amazing how strong your thighs are, and how thighs can asphyxiate someone.”

“I’m so sorry, I’ll try not to squeeze, and I don’t know why it happens.”

“Involuntary reaction, just like our legs shaking; just the pleasure makes us have spasms.”

“No, I get that, but I’m consciously trying not to suffocate you, and yet I still manage it.”

“It’s fine, just if you feel your legs going again, lay them flat, it might help, cos at the minute, your knees are bent.”

Erin nods and you dip your head for a third time.

This time you start licking her whole pussy, before focusing on the clitoris. You alternate between the two and then when you get to the top for a third time, you slip two fingers inside her warm, wet vagina. You thrust them in and out, whilst still licking away, and this drives her wild. She begins shuddering and gasping with pleasure, before moaning loudly and saying your name, through breaths. You continue this motion, adjusting your speed and matching your tongue to the pace of your fingers. She squirms on the bed and squeals with pleasure. You locate her G-Spot and focus on that, as much as you can, given the length of your fingers.

After some time, Erin’s legs begin to tighten, so she pushes them flat against the sheets, where they begin shaking uncontrollably. Her back arches and she grabs the edges of the bed. Sweating profusely, she holds her breath, opens her mouth in pleasure, before panting as her eyes roll back into her head, she moans satisfactorily, sneezes and squirts white cum into your mouth (instead of the usual clear cum) as you hit the G-Spot for a final time. You swallow the liquid and lap up the rest before sitting up and leaning forward to make out with her; a usual ending after giving head.

Erin tastes herself on your tongue and then licks her lips once you part. Catching your breath, you move yourself so you’re lying by her side, with your head on her chest.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Holtz. That was amazoir; I’ve not felt so alive and beyond satisfied in a while; you most definitely broke me, girl.”

“Okay, so mental note made to do more edging.”

“Yes, definitely. Now, sit on my face.”

You crane your neck upwards to look her in the face. “Who says I’ve finished with you? Don’t forget that I’m not strapping you until you’ve cum twice for me.”

“And that’s fine, but in the meantime, I want you to sit on my way, whilst I calm down, and I want you to cum hard for me.”

“Alright, that’s a good plan.” You get off the bed to go to the toilet, making sure you’re properly sorted before rejoining Erin in the bedroom.

“You _had_ to go for a wee before you sit on me, didn’t you?”

“Well, I doubt you would have wanted a golden shower.”

“Ew, no. No thanks.”

“Exactly. Now, use your enthusiasm for good.” You say, climbing back onto the bed. You make out for a little while, before you take a seat on Erin’s face, making sure that she is still able to breathe. You get comfortable and Erin begins to perform cunnilingus on you.

As you sit there, she grabs your hips, pushing you slightly; you take the hint and begin rotating your hips, grinding into her to give you some extra pleasure. She hits the extra-sensitive part of your clit and you gasp a few times. As your breathing becomes shallow, Erin speeds up her licking and causes you greater pleasure.

Your hip movements syncopate to the speed of her tongue movements and soon you find yourself quickly rocking back and forth; this helps with the excitement and the sensation. You get yourself worked up enough to break a sweat and Erin increases her speed again. You equalize with her and you have to lean forward to grab the bed’s headrest as you reach climax. You keep up your drive, even though you’re beginning to tire, and eventually it pays off. As you reach the climax, you tilt your head back and moan loudly, before calling Erin’s name. You orgasm and feel cum leaving your body, as she sucks at your clit. You shudder as you become overly sensitive and have to get off Erin, before she launches into a second round.

You lie next to her, overheated, and sweaty. You feel how sticky the backs of your knees are and grimace at the contact. Wiping them with the duvet, which is halfway off the bed, you rest your head, again, on Erin’s chest. She kisses the top of your head, and smells your hair, which is damp with sweat and sticking to your forehead.

“I feel like it’s been an age since you last sat on my face.” She comments.

“It has been a couple of years; we plateaued and mainly stuck to missionary, until this break.”

“We need to be a bit more zingy and zany.”

“We have work honey, and don’t forget Jane.”

“Well, when she’s at her grandparents on the weekend, we can be a bit more frisky and experimental.”

“We’re being pretty experimental here, babe.” You say, caressing her nipple.

“That’s what a honeymoon is for; to have non-stop crazy, impassioned, fiery sex.”

“Well, I can’t argue with you there.” You say, yawning.

“How can you be tired already, it’s not even dinnertime?”

“Cos we just exerted a lot of energy and burned a lot of calories by fucking hard.”

Erin tuts. “Oh yeah, good point.” Suddenly she yawns. “Okay, yeah, I think a nap before food is in order.”

“We’ve not even had lunch. C’mon, upsie daisy, let’s shower, have lunch and _then_ nap.”

“Cor, so full of wisdom, you.” She says, wriggling herself free. You try to pin her down, but she’s already out from underneath you. You pout, but get up and walk over the top of the bed, before jumping off it, booping her snoot and racing her all of two feet to the bathroom.

At the precise moment that you turn the electric shower on and the water starts running, your phone rings and Erin picks it up.

“Hello?”

 _“Hey girl, just checkin’ in on ya.”_ The familiar sprightly voice of Patty fills Erin’s ear. She puts the phone on loudspeaker and brings it into the bathroom.

 _“_ It’s Patty.” She says at your confused face.

“Hey, man, how’s it going?” you ask, suddenly alert.

_“Hey, man, not bad. Uh, where are you, dude?”_

“Oh, sorry, lemme turn the shower off.” You turn it off and sit on the edge of the bath. Erin sits on the toilet lid and balances the phone on the sink, before deciding against it and sitting next to you, keeping it flat in her palm.

“So how’s things at home?” Erin asks.

“ _Yeah, not too bad, thanks. We dealt with that ghost, and got a nice lump sum, there’s a gift for you too, we told him you were on your honeymoon and the guy left you some money.”_

“That’s sweet and completely unnecessary.” Erin says, being ‘strict-mom’ again.

_“Uh, dude, don’t complain, he’s given us a cheque of $6,000.”_

You clap your hands and chuckled animatedly. “Six grand for the ghost problem? Fuck me, that’s impressive. What did you do, give it a hug and tell it to fuck off?”

“ _No, but we destroyed a lamppost and damn near destroyed Ecto-1B.”_

“NOOOO! NOT MY BABY!” You yell, deafening Erin next to you and even hurting Patty’s ear down the line.

“ _Yo, Holtzy, shush a minute and listen…it didn’t hit the car, the car is fine; it missed it by a few inches, but it’s all good, man. Not a single scratch or dent, I promise you; you can even ask Abs.”_

“Oh, thank God. We can’t afford another replacement. And I can’t afford to get a new bonnet for the car!”

“ _She is fine. I cleaned her this morning – inside and out – so she’s all shiny and smelling of lemon.”_

“Wait, you cleaned Ecto? Aw, thanks. You didn’t have to, I would’ve done that when I… I mean, _we_ came back.”

“ _She needed a clean, the rain and puddles had splashed mud up her sides, and I’m sorry, but we were in a hurry and ate in the car.”_

You inhale sharply through your nose as your eyes become large. “You.did.what?” you say, emphasising each word.

“ _I’m sorry, we ate in the car, but then we felt bad, so we cleaned her up; hoovered the carpets and used proper car shampoo inside. We hand washed the car – didn’t take her to a garage or one of those car washes. It took us two hours, but she looks and smells fresh and clean and we promise to not eat in the car again. Oh, we also properly polished and buffed her up and the ghost ornament is super shiny now.”_

You sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose, closing your eyes.

“Honey, I know you’re really protective over the car, but they cleaned it and now you’re not gonna tell.”

“Babe, I know that they cleaned her, I just don’t like the idea of people eating in the car. She’s precious to me and she took a lot of time and effort. I’ll get over it, like I get over everything else, I’m just a little frustrated because like I feel like you should’ve asked; I dunno, I feel like that’s something I would do in someone else’s car.”

Erin looks at you. “Honey, I know you built her and made her nice, but she isn’t _your_ car. She belongs to the team, to the Ghostbusters; she’s a company car.”

You look at her, a mix of frustration, shock and annoyance. “She fucking well is _my_ car. I paid for her, I built her, I added all her toys and the seatbelts and airbags. Yes, you lot painted her, but she’s _my_ project.” you say, contempt rising in your voice. “You have your car and I have mine and Ecto is my work-child. Jane is our family child; Ecto is my baby; much like my chins are my fur babies.” You realise that your tone of voice is becoming hostile and so you tone it down. “ _Please_ just let me have ownership over her, you know how much the Ectomobile means to me, you know how much I hate anyone else behind the steering wheel – the exception of course, being Abby. Nothing against you, or you, Patty, but I’ve known Abby the longest and she had to drive me around when we were in Kenneth P. Higgins. _Please_ just let me say that she is _my_ car, because she’s been my favourite thing to build and you know how much I battled for her at the auction. I _know_ she is the company’s car, and I know the first one originally belonged to Patty’s Uncle, but Ecto-1B is what I paid for, out of my own pocket, and a small loan from the Mayor, but she’s mine, okay, no one else’s.”

Erin sighs and places a hang on your knee, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I’m sorry that I was so blasé and I’m sorry I took her away from you. From now on, I will acknowledge and accept that Ecto-1B is _your_ car and that we just loan it for business purposes – would the latter suit you.

You contemplate the proposition and nod. “Yes, I’m sorry I got so worked up. I just get so possessive over my gadgets. Possibly an Aspie thing, but I don’t out rightly know.”

 _“Yeah, I think it is, I read an article recently, so I can understand your condition a bit better. I get you as a person, but I don’t always know what sets you off, what triggers you, or what makes you overstimulated and needing to stim – So I read some examples from different age groups, but I want you to help me understand you better, dude. I know Erin properly understands you, but I feel like I don’t, and I’d hate to be the cause of a meltdown, or something, yano. Also, fine by me to call Ecto your car.”_ Patty replies, sounding tinny through the speakers.

You sit for a minute, in silence, digesting what Patty says.

“ _Guys, you there?”_ She asks.

“Processing.” You reply.

The three of you lapse into silence.

“I think that’s doable – I generally know what triggers me, and I have coping mechanisms for a _lot_ of it, so you won’t actually know what’s set me off. But generally speaking, large crowds, overly bright lights sometimes, loud noises, including too many conversations at once and at a loud volume, shouting; mostly too much noise is what overstimulates me, and I will either leave the place, or if I can’t I might cover my ears. I have, on an occasion, been sat rocking, with my hands over my ears and my eyes tightly shut – that doesn’t happen often though. In terms of stimming, these can happen at any time and for any reason. If I’m overstimulated, I may rock, tap my middle finger to my thumb, bounce my leg, or a combination of all three. I also have to sit with one, or both legs off the ground, and I tend to lean on my chairs, spin on the stool, lick my guns and chew my straws – still stimming, but that’s either for maximum comfort, to combat boredom or because it ‘feels nice’ – like sitting on my left foot, or having them on the table, which relates to being comfortable. So lots of different reasons, including nonsensical ones, like licking the pistols, because I thought it was cool at the time.”

“It was really hot.” Erin says, before blushing.

“ _Man, I don’t need to know your weird kinks, Erin. Thanks for the heads up, Holtzy.”_

“No worries. I wish I could be more helpful, but I don’t always know, because unlike an Autie… being Asperger’s in mainly social, and I’m _technically_ classed as a High Functioning Autistic… but unlike an Autistic person, or a more ‘severely’ affected Autie, I don’t have many meltdowns, or issues pertaining to meltdowns, so when they happen, they can be quite surprising and frustrating even to myself. I get frustrated over things, and then I get frustrated at myself for being frustrated and then I upset myself. Even Eri doesn’t understand when they come out of the blue, because I can’t tell her what’s upset me and what’s making me anxious, or scared, or upset, or annoyed, or angry and then it manifests itself as either anger, in the form of a tantrum, or I just end up crying. And then I just feel drained. Like today, we went to the Museum, and I randomly started thinking about our future as a family and how that would affect work, so I upset myself and then I was fine, and then I remembered that Betsy, my baby Chin had died, so I upset myself again, but amongst all that, I was worried and scared and irritated that I had allowed myself to think such thoughts, when I know they’re patently not true, and they’re absurd and that I know Eri’s not gonna leave me, but I got so worked up about it and then I thought I would become a waste of space, and neither you, nor Abby would want to associate me, so I was distressed about that.”

_“You’ve been plenty helpful, dude. And I just want you to know, that no matter how you’re feeling, I’m not going anywhere, and neither is Abby or Erin. We’re your family, and we’re ride or die kinda bitches; we’re in this together. I’m sorry to hear about Betsy. I don’t want to upset you, but what happened?”_

“She fell out of her cage, and it was quite high up. She was the baby, so hadn’t mastered the whole landing-on-your-feet skill. I was devastated; still am.”

_“Well, Erin, give Holtzy a hug from me now, and you’re gonna have a bear hug when you’re back, okay? Just know that I love you, and you’re perfect in every fucking way. And if there’s anything I can do to help you, for anything you know where I am. I’m sure Erin has your back, but if you two ever need a break, you know where I live.”_

“A break from what?”

“ _Anything, man. The stress of work, home, your Mom, a change of scenery, each other. Not meaning that in a bad way, but you guys live together and you might need to recharge your batteries; I know I would, cos I need time to zone out by myself.”_

“Yeah, that makes sense…Erin?” You ask, looking her dead in the eyes.

“Yeah, no, I get that. If I get sick of Holtz, I’ll give you a shout.”

“Heeey!” you say, sounding offended.

“You know I’m teasing you, gorgeous.” She says, before kissing your cheek.

You hold her face and make out with her, inadvertently making noises as you do so.

“ _Uh, guys, I can hear you playing tonsil tennis. Please save that for when I’m off the phone.”_

“Oh, you mean like this?” You ask rhetorically, deliberately kissing Erin loudly and moaning after each one.

_“Uh, I’m cool, dude. Yeah.”_

You and Erin laugh heartily in advance of saying goodbye to Patty and hanging up. You get up and turn the shower on, before hopping from one foot to the other, complaining about them being numb. Once the shower is warm enough, you climb into the bath and stand under the stream, waiting for Erin to step in and close the shower curtain. When she doesn’t immediately do so, you flick her with water, and sulk.

After the shower, you get dressed quickly and wander, holding hands, towards the elevator, ready to hit the restaurant on the ground floor. Your belly grumbles and you realise just how hungry you are. The elevator arrives and you notice the same couple from before, are standing in one corner, behind an elderly couple. They see you, and blush; realising that you were in the elevator earlier as they were getting frisky.

Erin rolls her eyes and gets in before you. You press the button for marked _G_ and your ears are filled with elevator music for the umpteenth time this week.


	41. Chapter 39

The days blur into one and soon you find yourself all packed up, ready to say goodbye to the hotel. You’re a bit gutted as you don’t want to leave, but at the same time, you’re excited to see your friends, and more importantly, your daughter.

Erin pushes the door open and swings the bag carrying the souvenirs out in front of her. You take the bag from her and set it down at the desk. As per usual, you didn’t wait for her and left her to pay for the taxi and wander through the reception and into the elevator on your own. You did, however, mumble something about needing to pack before her, as you take forever, and she briefly nodded, as you ran inside.

“Have you started packing yet?” she asks, hands on hips.

“Yeah, I _think_ I’m all packed. I’mma do a run around; see if I’ve left anything.”

“And then I’ll do a run around after your run around to double check you’re not missing anything. How full’s your backpack?”

“I can get the gifts in, no problem.” You say, picking up the strap-on from under a pile of clothes. “Well, shit, almost forgot this.” You say, blushing.

“Yeah, you definitely _don’t_ want to leave that behind!” She says, licking her lips and chuckling.

“Gawd, can you imagine some poor unfortunate person coming across this as they’re cleaning our room and being so embarrassed and then having to call the manager to come deal with it?” You pop it in the bottom of your suitcase, tucked under a hoodie, three t-shirts and two pairs of unworn socks. Of course you packed too many clothes, but rather too many than too little.

Erin looks at the mess which is your suitcase, and sighs, exasperatedly. “Babe, _please_ can I sort that out? It’s triggering my OCD, and I _really_ need to pack your suitcase properly.”

“Yeah, okay, just make sure the strap is hidden.”

“Yano they _can_ see it through the airport scanners?”

“Well, how in God’s name did I manage to get it through customs?”

“Probably us holding hands and kissing a lot gave the game away that we were a lesbian couple and they just wanted to let us have a good time.” She suggests, shrugging.

“Well, I hope we can get it back _in_ the country; that’ll be embarrassing having to show it to the police if we get stopped for a ‘suspicious package’.”

“You didn’t have to bring it, I wouldn’t have minded.”

“Yes, but we did have _loads_ of fun. Especially you sitting in my lap, on it and not being allowed to ride me until I said you could, after saying ‘please’ of course.” You say, winking at her.

“Yeah, that was such a turn on.”

“I know it was; you were wet for hours.” You say, smirking as you wander to check if you’ve missed any toiletries in the bathroom.

You come back and smile.

“All sorted?” Erin asks.

“Yup.” You say, before grumbling.

“What’s up, chicken?”

“I don’t wanna leave.” You say, pouting, eyes wide, trying your best puppy-dog face.

“Neither do I, but we have to. We’ve gotta get back for our friends, and for Jane and then for the struggle of getting back into work – which I _know_ will be a difficult task for you. At least we’re going back to work on a Wednesday, and not a Monday! Because then I would agree with you that it’ll be really difficult.”

“Not gonna lie, but these last six days have absolutely flown by. They’ve literally just blurred into one.” You say, hands on hips, brow furrowed, and an air of sadness about you.

“I know they have sweetie. Aren’t you looking forward to being back on familiar ground?”

“Yeah, yeah, I am, I just don’t like leaving my vacation destinations.”

“I’m the same, honey, but think about who we’re gonna see – Jane for one.”

“Yes, yes, right, yes, no, that’s a good thing; how can I forget about that?”

“Because you’re having too much fun and you don’t want it to stop.”

“Uh-huh, that’s true. Anyway, are you fully packed?”

“Yes, but lemme do a run around.” She says, before opening drawers, the wardrobe and searching the bathroom. “Right, we are golden.” She says once back in the room. She proceeds to shut all the cupboard doors and drawers before hanging you the bag of gifts, which you carefully put in your North Face backpack. You zip it up, sling it over your shoulder and zip up your suitcase. Picking it up, you pull up the handle, so you can drag it behind you and saunter towards the door. Holding it open with your foot, you wait for Erin to turn off the lights and close the window. She wanders over to you and enters your personal space; something very few people are allowed to do, since it can make you anxious, or feel claustrophobic.

She nods her head, taps your shoulder and gestures for you to leave. You’re a little reluctant, and with a disheartened sigh, you wander down the corridor towards the elevators. You hear Erin rattling the door handle 4 times (a habit she has acquired from you) and know that it is fully locked. She joins you at the elevator and you stand there waiting impatiently for it to arrive.

You hunch your shoulders, tilt your head back and stare at the ceiling, before letting out a long groan. You tap your foot impatiently and the elevator _pings_ to signify its arrival. You stop what you’re doing and back up to allow any passengers to exit.

The elevator is empty. You step inside and wander straight to the back wall and check out your appearance in the mirror. You take note of your frown lines and the bags under your eyes from years of not enough sleep. You shake your head subtly, before helping Erin with the bags.

* * *

Once on the ground floor, you leave Erin to check out as you take one last look at the chandelier and the comfortable leather sofas. Jacques telephones for a taxi as Erin fills out the paperwork and you take a seat on the L-shaped sofa away from the desk. You look forlorn and once Erin turns around, you can see that she is as equally despondent as you are. She joins you at the sofa and dumps her bags on it, with the suitcase to one side. Sitting down heavily, she leans her head on your shoulder, and sighs herself.

“These 10 days really have gone quickly,” she admits “but it will be nice to get back home.”

“To the rain, no doubt; we’ve been fortunate that it only rained twice this entire holiday.”

“Yes, quite fortunate, but who cares if it’s raining? New York rain isn’t that bad.”

“It’s cold and wet.”

“Well, of course it’s wet; it _is_ water; that’s one of the features of precipitation.”

“Urgh, don’t be science-y with me. I’m too sad.”

“Chin up, babe. We’ll be home soon, and you’ll be back to your usual busy self before long.” You tilt your head back once more, with your eyes squinted and your brow furrowed. After what seems like an absolute age, your taxi cab arrives and you’re soon loaded up, belted in and off to the airport.

You stare out the window at all the passing buildings, towering over you, competing for space, looming high against each other and blocking out the sun at various points. You pass the Arc de Triomphe and you take in its beauty, its carved features, its size and build for the second time that week, as you meander down the traffic-clustered roads.

You’re sure you’ve fallen asleep, because the next thing you see is the main entrance to Aéroport Charles de Gaulle and planes taking off and landing, as the car pulls into the taxi rank.

Erin made sure that you arrived a full two hours ahead of schedule, to make sure you didn’t miss the flight, but being early does nothing to calm you down. You’re now stressed at the prospect of going through customs and being surrounded by strangers. There’s something about airports, the dentist and the doctor’s which makes you extremely nervous. You have to remind yourself: ‘Don’t be afraid of sweating as that’s what makes you sweat’ and you’ve noticed that the more nervous you are in an airport, the guiltier you look of some misdemeanour and the guards start giving you funny looks. Especially if you’re carrying medication which can be misconstrued as illegal drugs.

After you’ve checked in your bags you make your way to the security gates and find, to your surprise, that the security area is relatively quiet. This dispels any nerves and you feel yourself relaxing and the tension being released from your body.

You step through the gates first and the alarm begins to sound. Immediately a female guard swoops to stand in front of you and asks you to raise your arms to the side. She pats you down, only to discover that your bottle-cap glasses, which you had forgotten to take off is the sole cause of the alarm blaring. She explains that you should have taken them off, but that you’re otherwise clear and good to go.

Erin is frantically patting herself down to see if she has any metal on her, before stepping through the futuristic-looking human capsule. Thankfully hers doesn’t cause an alarm to sound, or flash red like yours did. She steps through and makes her way over to you. “What did you do?”

“Forgot to remove my glasses.” You say, shrugging and walking to the conveyer to grab your pocket items, your wristwatch, passport, belt and sneakers. Erin follows suit. Once everything has been gathered up, in your hands, over your arm, and shoved roughly into your pockets, you find a bench and adjust things so they’re comfortable. You shove your shoes on to your feet, before sitting down on the bench and tying the laces in your usual fashion. Once that’s done, you start putting your belt back on, whilst keeping your eyes transfixed on the capsules.

“What’s got your attention, Holtz?” Erin asks, following your gaze.

“I remember when they used to be metal frames, and now there are those capsules. I’m trying to understand the technology and how it all works – well, except wires; lots and lots of wires.”

“Being a scientist again, I see.”

“Engineer head is on, actually.”

“Oh yeah… wires, engineering.”

You nod and continue affixing your belt to your flared trousers; very 80s, very chic, very you.

You gather your things and head deeper into the airport to await the plane’s arrival, stopping first, of course, in Duty Free, before finding somewhere that sells alcohol. You’re not an alcoholic, but right now it’s the only accessible thing to help calm your nerves, since your ADHD medication has run out and you didn’t fancy trying to smuggle cannabis into the airport, let alone onto the plane.

“Hey, babe, look at this!” Erin exclaims, brightly.

You wander over to join, backpack still slung over one shoulder; it keeps falling down, so you decide to put it on both, nearly elbowing a small child in the process.

“What, whatchu got?”

“CBD oil.”

“Wait, they sell cannabis oil here?”

“Yeah. And tobacco, cigarettes and cigars.”

“Jesus. It’s amazing what Duty Free can get away wi—Ooh, hold up… Honey Jack Daniels. Excuse me.”

You brush past her towards the JD.

“Hey, Er-bear! Babe, come look at this. Retail price $22, Duty Free price $12 and that’s for 700ml.”

“If you think that’s good ma’am, we have a 1 litre bottle of Honey Jack Daniel’s for $20; retail price $40.” A man says, appearing at your shoulder, making you jump a little.

“Jesus, you scared me.”

“My apologies. Can I interest you in the 1L bottle?”

“I meeean… Erin doesn’t drink the stuff, and I do, so, sure.”

“Excellent. Is there anything else I can help you with, we have plenty on offer.”

“The CBD oil; tell me more about it.” Erin says, surprisingly.

“Uh, honey, you don’t need CBD oil.”

“I don’t, you do.” Erin says, lightly touching your arm.

“Yeah, but I have my ADHD meds and you know what happened the last time I had cannabis.”

“There’s not a lot known about how CBD oil can help with ADHD, but I believe it can bring focus to those with Autism, and it can help reduce anxiety, epileptic seizures, Alzheimer’s, Type 1 diabetes, OCD, PTSD, it helps to fight cancer and can help a person to quit smoking. This list isn’t exhaustive, by the way, but generally speaking, what we sell is the 300mg, which is the lowest-potency option. It’s kind of more for recreational purposes, here in Duty Free, as we legally can’t recommend it for medical purposes, but I know a lot of people swear by it.” The man says, regurgitating information that he has probably said hundreds of times before.

“See, there we go, Holtz; can help with your Asperger’s, and probably your ADHD too.”

“And you can use it for your OCD.”

“It might actually be useful to have, then if we’re both using it, I can remind you to take it, so you’re not reliant on your medication, especially if you run out again, or you have to wait a while for them to be made, or whatever.”

“So, Honey JD and CBD oil? We’re a couple of prizes. Need anything else?”

“Nope, I think we’re good, hon.”

“Alrighty then, I’ll see you at the tills.” The man says, before shuffling off.

“Are we sure that’s a good combination, Eri? _Alcohol and drugs_.” You whisper the final part so as to not draw so much attention to yourselves.

“We will have to wait a while before we can see your doctor, so we can take this in the meantime. And I’ll just tell her that we got it as a temporary measure.”

“Who said you’re coming to my appointment?”

“Holtz, don’t pretend that you’re gonna go there all by yourself, without missing the appointment and having to reschedule it like 4 times.”

“I’m not _that_ bad.”

“No, you’re not, because I’m here to remind you.”

“I managed during High School and University.”

“And how many times did someone have to drag you to the appointment?”

“Every time, but that’s not the point.”

“That is _exactly_ my point. I know you hate going, but you _have_ to go and the sooner we get your meds on track, the sooner you can be back to your old self.”

“I like myself as I am, thank you.”

“Babe, you know as well as I do that you’re out of sorts, out of character and out of synch with the world.”

“And what makes you say that?”

“The six meltdowns we’ve had whilst being in the country, your delayed reaction to the death of your pet, being constantly zoned out, unwilling to leave the bed, not wanting to go back to work and see our daughter, you’re lethargic and listless. And you’re not focused or paying attention even now. Babe? Baaabe?” she asks in a sing-song voice. “What’s got you distracted now?”

“Hmm?” you ask, snapping back into the present.

“You’re distracted.”

“I’m sorry, I switched off. I was thinking about something else.”

“Which is what you’ve been doing a lot lately; you’re concentration has been shocking. The amount of times I’ve had to repeat—”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, sure, sure.” You say, not hearing anything she is said, and staring into space, eyes glazed over.

Erin sighs, giving up talking. You autopilot your way towards the 1L bottle of Honey Jack Daniel’s, grab a bottle of CBD oil off the display stand and float, in an uncharacteristically demented manner, towards the tills; unblinking the entire time.

You pay for both, without speaking, nod at the man who spoke to you before and take your backpack off your back, before placing the Duty Free plastic bag inside it. You zip it up as Erin approaches, but you ignore her, sling the straps over your shoulders and disappear through the open shutters. The man frowns at Erin; she shrugs in reply and jogs after you.

“Babe? Babe, stop. Holtz? Holtzy. Will you just stop please?”

You ignore her and, without taking note of your surroundings, find yourself in an open-plan bar, purchasing a pint of Budweiser. You find a two-seater, struggle to sit on the stool and begin to drink it, completely unaware of your surroundings, or an exasperated Erin, approaching your table.

“Right, fine, I give up, I’m not helping you. Make your own way home. I’m fed up to the back teeth of this behaviour.” She announces, irritably, as she reaches your table. She slings her handbag over her shoulder and storms off to find somewhere to sit in the waiting area nearby.

The sound of her heels disappearing alerts you her wandering off. You shake your head and begin to cry silently. Reality comes crashing down around you and the noise surrounding you rushes into your ears and immediately pains them. You’re unsure of how you got to the bar, but now you’re all alone, in the company of strangers without Erin by your side. You stare at your pint; absorbing the golden hue and look about you for a sign of your favourite redhead. When you can’t locate her, panic begins to set in, but also confusion as to why she left you. _Perhaps she’s gone to the toilet_ , you think, completely unaware of her speaking to you. You pull your phone out of your pocket and speed-dial her. She doesn’t answer. You try again. Still no answer.

You glumly drink your pint and wait for her to show up.

Five minutes passes … fifteen … half an hour … forty five minutes passes and there is still no sign of Erin. By this point, you are now on your fourth pint and you’re feeling slightly inebriated. You try calling Erin again, and leave a message.

“Okay, so I don’t know what I’ve said or done, but whatever it is, I’m sorry. I’m currently sat in the Red Lion Airport bar, and I’m currently on my fourth pint. I don’t know why, but I am, and I don’t feel so good; not because of the booze, but because you’re missing and I don’t think I can walk to find you, because of the crowds and because of my jelly legs. I legit don’t even know how I got to the bar. I don’t even remember leaving Duty Free; I think I like blacked out, and like autopiloted, but I really _, really_ don’t know. I have a sickening feeling that I’ve done something really bad and that you’re gonna break up with me, and I really can’t have that happen, I love you too much Erin. And I know everything is my fault, and I’m the biggest idiot in the world, and I wish, I just _wish_ , I was _normal_ and then we wouldn’t have these problems. I don’t know why I’ve been acting like this, but it isn’t me, I know that, I just try to hide my problems, but sometimes the crazy wants out and I’m sorry I have to put you through this mess, but please, don’t leave me. Whatever I’ve done, please tell me and let me fix it. I can’t have yet another person walk out of my life; I don’t think I can cope. I will go and get help and fix whatever it is that needs to be fixed, but please, don’t leave me in France. I wanna go home and I just want you back, but I can’t go home without you. I’m sorry for being so fickle and impatient and immature and unfocused and I’m sorry I’m probably the worst partner you’ve ever had, but I’m trying; probably not hard enough, but I can do better, I want to do better, just give me another chance.” You sigh, shake your head, glare at the men staring at you, hang up and finish your pint.

One of the men sidles over and plonks himself on the stool opposite.

“Dude, I’m gay, there’s no chance of that happening.”

A Boston accent breaks through. “I got all that, honey, I’m sorry your girlfriend has ditched you, but I just want you to know that there’s nothing wrong with you, it’s other people that have the issues. I don’t know if you’re gonna believe that, but you were wonderfully and fearfully made, and you should not have to apologise for the way you are. What are you drinking? I think you need to get drunk.”

“My plane is in two hours and my wife has disappeared.”

“Ah Mazel Tov! Let’s get you drunk, two hours is plenty of time.”

“Budweiser.”

“Oh, honey, no, you need something stronger. Vodka Coke?”

“Vodka makes me violent.”

“Oh, shit. Terry, get the girl a Malibu and Coke. That’s my husband, we’ve been married for two years.”

“Ah, congrats. Uhm, me and her have been married for like two weeks.”

“Ah, babies. This your honeymoon?”

“Yeah, sure is…or was, I don’t know.”

“Well, if she can’t forgive you, do you think you made a mistake?”

“No, I really don’t … uh, thanks.” You take the Malibu and Coke and neck it.

“My goodness, that went down a treat.” Terry says, pulling his chair to join you. You notice, for the first time, that they’re in matching red plaid shirts and have well-groomed beards at matching lengths.

“Bears?” you ask.

“Why, yes, we most certainly are. I’m John and this is Terry.”

“Jillian and my wife is Erin.”

“So what happened, sugar?” Terry asks his voice effeminate, which is the opposite of John’s slightly gruffer voice. (You immediately know who is the top; the alpha.)

“We were in Duty Free talking about CBD Oil that they have on sale there, then I switched off and ‘woke up’…” you air quote the words “…here with my second pint.”

“Oh honey, sounds like you blacked out.”

“But I don’t know what I said, and whether that is the reason why my woman left me.”

“Well, what she like?”

“Anal.”

The bears laugh heartily.

“Oh, my goodness, that was hilarious.” Terry says. “No, but how is she?”

“Oh, she’s anal; she’s got OCD, and has to deal with a woman-child like me.”

John tuts. “Oh, Jillian, baby doll, I don’t think you’re a child. Why do you say that?”

“I have Asperger’s and ADHD; my outlook is that of a child, quite a lot of the time.”

“Well, it just so happens that Terry here has ADD and that is just a wonderful blessing; he isn’t as hyperactive, but he does struggle with attention span and focus.”

“And how do you cope?”

“Well, it’s simple…” they say together.

“We make a list of everything he is good at, everything he needs to work on, and we have this gold star system in place. So if he manages to take out the bins, he gets a gold star and if he manages to book a doctor’s appointment, he gets one. I still have to remind him to go, but if he gets enough gold stars, we go for a spa date. And by the sounds of it, you and your lady really need a spa day. We also take time apart from each other. We love each other dearly, but we give ourselves 2 or 3 days to recharge our batteries, reconnect with family and friends and disappear off the radar. At first, for both parties, trust was an issue, so we had the respective friends keeping tabs and writing a journal of what they did, and who they spoke to, but we realised that that was possessive and so we just left them to their own devices and Terry has never cheated on me…”

“And John has never cheated on me. I think you two need to have a couple of days away from each other. See family.”

“My parents and I don’t get on.”

“Oh, how terrible.” John growls, his voice suddenly lower than before.

“We have a daughter too, and it’s not like we can ditch her any time soon. We’ve already been separated for 10 days; I don’t wanna leave her for any longer.”

“Well, that is just sweet. I’m happy for you.” Terry says, giving your arm a rub; you don’t flinch.

John smiles at you. “I agree, don’t leave her for any longer, but just _bear_ in mind …aha, see what I did there; I made a joke about us …”

“You sure did, honey.”

“Anyway, just keep in mind that separation from your partner for a couple of days is healthy; just don’t go on a sex-filled rampage and you’ll be fine.”

“As much as I flirt with other women, as is my nature, I would never, ever, _ever_ cheat on Erin, or so help me that I shall be smited by God himself.”

The bears exchange looks. “Well now, that’s very deep; poignant. We get what you mean, though.” You finish your pint and catch a glimpse of red in the corner of you eye. You whip your head around, a little too fast, spinning yourself out, and sigh – it isn’t Erin.

“Well fuck my hair; I think I’ve really done it this time.”

“Time for another Malibu and Coke.” Terry says, disappearing off to the bar.

He comes back with two and you quickly down both.

“Woah, woah, steady on. That was actually for me, but never mind. Slow your roll, chica; otherwise you’ll be banned from stepping on the plane.”

“Wait, theycandothat?” you slur.

“Yes, aaand the slurring has started. Okay, no more for you.”

You laugh heartily; overly loud, making people stare at you. You slap the table as you laugh and then hiccup. “Ffffuuucck.” You slur, leaning too far towards the back of the stool.

“Okay, I think we need to change seats.” John says. You nod and allow him to gather your things and help you to one of the unoccupied sofas. Terry arrives moments later with all their bags and places them around the coffee table.

You inhale through your nose, eyes wide, rocking on the sofa, before exhaling and snorting. You look confused and cough weakly.

The men shake their head in unison and sit down either side of you. You lean your head on Terry’s shoulder. “You’re such an adorable couple; I live for matching outfits.”

“Well, thank you, sweetie.”

“Also, the beards are fab and I don’t like beards, normally.”

“Gotta keep up our appearances.”

“This top agrees.” You say, pointing at yourself. The men chuckle at your dominance joke and let you fall asleep on Terry’s shoulder.


	42. Chapter 40

It’s getting close to the time, in which you should be boarding the plane, and Erin has had enough of sitting by herself, miserably staring out the window and watching the planes take off and land. She gets up, slings her handbag over her arm, allowing it to rest in the crook of her elbow and saunters off towards the bar, where she left you over an hour ago.

Her heels clack on the hard surface as she makes a beeline for your table. She stops dead in her tracks, realising that you aren’t there, until she hears the familiar sound of your guffaw. She spots you, seated between two men in matching shirts and carefully and slowly approaches.

“Um, hi.” She says softly.

You stop laughing and look at her, straight-faced and serious. An awkward silence ensues. You take a gulp of your water and, setting it down on the table, make eye contact with her again.

“ _I think we should skedaddle, Terrance.”_ John whispers. They get up and seat themselves at the bar, still within earshot.

“Where have you been?”

“The waiting area, I needed to cool off.”

“I was fucking terrified of being on my own, yano!” you say, sharply.

“I know, and I’m sorry, but I was pissed at you for ignoring me.”

“Did you get my voicemail?”

“Yes, but I haven’t listened to it yet. What did it say?”

“Basically that I’m a fucking twat and that I’m sorry I fucked you off …” You ignore the looks of horror from the people sat near you.

She raises an eyebrow and sits, tentatively on the chair opposite. “I think it was a little more than that.”

“Yeah, it was. It was asking you to forgive me and that I’m sorry for whatever I did, and that I hoped you wouldn’t break up with me and leave me here, alone, in France.”

“How many times must I tell you that I’m not gonna break up with you?”

“I know, I know.”

“Is that what you want, is that how you feel, because you keep mentioning it.”

“No, no, I, I, I, I … I just felt like I had really, _really_ pushed you too far and that was the final straw; the one that broke the donkey’s back.”

“I will admit that you did infuriate me, that’s why I fucked off for an hour, and I’m sorry I did and I’ve only just come back… You have every right to be mad, considering my behaviour, was, well, pretty _twatish_.” She says, quietly. “Are you alright though?”

“So-ber-ing.” You say, realising you’re still rather intoxicated and the water hasn’t sufficed in dispelling the effects of the alcohol.

“Wow, um, okay. Just try and be sober in the next half an hour as that’s when our plane is due to land.”

“Yesh, I will dooo. Lemme introduce you to my new guy friends. Yo, bears!” You shout, loudly.

Erin facepalms at your volume, but says nothing.

“Terry, John, this is Erin. Be nice. I know I basically made her out to be a dick, but she really isn’t. We’re both dicks; I mean she likes them, I don’t, so I’m just one huge dick.”

“Honey, please stop talking about dicks.”

“Why, honey, we love them?” Terry asks, rhetorically.

“Oh, _bears.”_ Erin says, cottoning on to the terminology of heavyset, hairy, gay men.

“Duh. I wasn’t just nicknaming them.”

“My apologies.” Erin says.

“Accepted. Jillian, honeybee, she’s gorgeous. Why didn’t you say so?”

“I said she had red hair.”

“But my God, her eyes. Sorry, honey, this probably makes you uncomfortable, but…” John gently takes Erin’s chin in his hand. “Terry, just look at the colour of her eyes! They’re grey-blue. Absolutely stunning. Redheads with green or blue eyes are an absolute Godsend, but yours have grey _and_ blue in them, and I am absolutely fascinated by them.”

“Um, thank you?” Erin says, blushing.

Terry looks deeply into Erin’s eyes, before she looks uncomfortable and John releases her face. “Oh, I’m sorry, sweetie pie, too much male contact.”

Erin chuckles.

“She’s bisexual, so it doesn’t matter.”

“Oh, well, sexuality is fluid. I believe Shane said something of that nature in ‘The L Word’.”

“Yup, she did.” You say, before drinking your water, thirstily.

Terry checks the tickets he has, before spotting Erin’s poking out of her passport. “May I?”

Erin nods, without realising.

“Oh, interesting. John, baby, these fabulous ladies are on our flight, and even better, they’re across the aisle from us. Ooh, babies, we’re gonna have fun. Also, we should exchange numbers. You’re more than welcome to visit our pad in Boston.”

“Thank you.” You say, pulling out your phone. “We live right by Central Park, in a 2 bedroom apartment; with a mezzanine. Well, my name is on the lease, Erin just moved in.”

“Babe, have you not put my name on the lease yet?”

“Uhhhh… Noooo, I forgot.”

“Shit, so I’ve been living there illegally for 3 years.”

“Well, not _illeeegal,_ but yeah.”

“Jesus, Holtzy.” Erin shakes her head and places her hand over her mouth.

“Woops, back to the drawing board with that one.”

“Would you like me to do it?”

“Please, if you wouldn’t mind.”

“Happy to, and I’m sorry, once again, for ditching you.”

“Well, I’m sorry I blacked out and somehow ended up here, but I made new friends, so not all bad.”

Erin inhales loudly, before exhaling silently. “No, I suppose it isn’t all bad. Gentlemen, may I suggest we gather our things and head towards the gate?”

Your gate number is announced as being open.

“Ah, right on time.”

You gather your things, head towards the gate, and just as you’re about to sit down, in the waiting area, an announcement over the tannoy alerts the passengers that the plane is ready to board. The four of you wander the bridge together, show your tickets and find your allocated seats. You sit in the window seat, with Erin in the middle and the aisle seat empty.

* * *

As the plane begins its journey down the runway, you grip the armrests tightly, knuckles white, face pale. You hate take-off and landing, and any turbulence sends you into hysterics.

John calls Erin. “Hey.”

“Hmm?”

“Your girl don’t look too good, does she want sickness tablets?”

Erin turns to see you looking pale. She touches your forehead and notices it’s sticky. “Yup, we better had, this one is all clammy.”

John gives her two and produces a small bottle of water from his Duty Free bag. He passes them to Erin who breaks the tablets in half, knowing full well that you struggle to swallow them whole.

“Jill, sickness tablets for you.”

You shake your head. “Can’t, I feel sick.”

“These will make you feel better, chicken.”

“Okay.”

She gives you the tablets, half at a time, and you swallow each piece.

“Psst.” John says. Erin watches you drink some more, then hands you the bottle. She wipes the top, screws on the lid and hands it back to John.

“What’s up?”

“They’re drowsy ones, so she’ll be asleep in a few minutes, and they last a good while.”

“That’s fab, because she isn’t keen on flying; well the take-off, landing and turbulence are the worst for her, so if she can sleep through the flight, then that’ll take the edge off.”

“You seem stressed.”

“I am, she’s a handful, but I love her dearly.”

“You should get whiskey on the rocks.”

“I don’t drink much, other than wine.”

“Well, get a large glass of wine, you need to relax. You’re carrying tension in your shoulders.”

“Heh. I know. It’s bad.”

“Well, I can chat to you if you want?”

“That’ll be nice.”

“Night, night, Erin.” You trill. There’s a _thud_ as your head makes contact with the window and Erin is concerned that you’ve knocked yourself out again. _“I’m fine.”_ You mutter, with your eyes closed. “ _I’m gonna sleep now, wifey_.”

“Okay, my darling, have a good sleep.”

You reach your hand around, flailing it about, trying to find hers, and end up rubbing her crotch accidentally. She sits bolt upright and takes your hand.

 _“Sorry, I touched you there.”_ You mumble, almost incoherently.

“It’s okay.” She gives your hand a light squeeze, leans over to kiss your temple and then, you’re out.


	43. Chapter 41

The tyres squeak down on the runway, just as you wake up. You’re amazed that you managed to stay asleep for the entire six hour journey. A restless Erin bounces her foot next to you and you see Terry and John stirring in their seats.

“Good morning, sunshine.” John says, catching your eye.

You jerk your head upwards in greeting. “‘Sup?”

“Good sleep, treacle?” He questions.

“Yeah, what did you give me?”

“Sickness tablets, with drowsy effect. Two of them; three hours sleep relief, each.”

“Well, thanks for helping me to sleep. Aw, shit, I need a wee; oh God, I’m desperate.”

“You’ll have to sit tight until we’re in the airport, hon.” Erin says, still tapping her foot. “I’m also desperate for a wee; you had fallen asleep on me for about 4 hours and I didn’t want to push you off my lap. You eventually sat yourself upright; on the brink of waking up, and then you were out again. Luckily your head on my bladder stopped the feeling for a while, but then as soon as the pressure was off, I was dying.”

“But why didn’t you go when I sat up?”

“I did; two hours ago. I need to go again.”

“Sheesh.”

“I know.”

The ‘Safe to Remove Seatbelt’ sign comes on, with a ping and you scramble to your feet. Erin grabs the bags from the overhead bin and you force yourself past her and into the aisle. She grabs your arm, to stop you marching down it, barging people out of the way, and holds it steadfast. You whimper at your increasing bladder pain.

An elderly couple slowly get to their feet and eventually you’re moving down the centre of the plane, towards the doors at the front. Once through it, you practically run down the stairs, across the tarmac of the airway and are only stopped by the passengers crowding at the foot of the stairs into the terminal.

Finally they start moving again, and you’re off as fast as you can manage given the volume of people. Once you’re atop the stairs, you dash along the corridor, through the double doors, quickly scanning for a toilet sign. You glance behind you and see Erin, jogging, as fast as her heels will allow, trying to keep up with you. That’s the thing about Erin; no matter the situation, she is _always_ in a pair of heels. You on the other hand are _always_ in flats – not just because you’re a tomboy and the more butch of the two (so you wouldn’t be caught dead in a pair) but because they’re uncomfortable and you actually have flat feet.

You tap your foot irritably and bite your lower lip, top teeth protruding as you screw up your face; the pain becoming almost unbearable. You wait for her to arrive, and then you announce which direction to go. “This way!” You exclaim, and set off, running, towards the left. Erin doesn’t run, but quickens her pace, leaving you to Road Runner down the expanse.

* * *

You wander through the airport, until you need to show your passport to a disgruntled employee. He literally grunts at you, gestures for your passport, glares at it, then at you and lets you through. He does the same to Erin, Terry and John (who managed to find you amongst the crowd.) Once through, you bid farewell to them and Erin switches on her phone, prompting you to do the same. You ignore the calls from your mother, but phone your father back.

During your rather animated conversation, Erin calls Abby.

_“Heeyyy! Look who it is? D’you have a nice time?”_

“Hey Abs. It was eventful, to say the least, but yes, yes we did. How’s our beautiful monster?”

_“Ahh, she’s good, she’s here now, and so’s Patty. Wanna talk to her?”_

“Yes, please, buddy.”

 _“Alright.”_ There is a pause … “ _Hey Janey, Mom is on the phone.”_ Erin hears Jane squeal with excitement. _“Hi Mommy.”_

“Hey sweetie, how have you been?”

_“Good as gold.”_

“Have you now? Well that’s excellent to hear. How’s Nanny and Bampy?”

_“Tired and old.”_

Erin chuckles. “And Gramms and Gramps?”

_“The same. How are you?”_

“Ooh, I’m great, princess. Mama’s on the phone to Bampy at the minute, but we will be home soon. Please can you put Aunty Abby back on?” There’s a slight scuffle over the earpiece as Jane nearly drops Abby’s phone, but she catches it just in time.

_“Hey, Abby here.”_

“Hey dude, can you come get us please?”

_“Yeah, want the Cam or the Ecto?”_

“Camaro would probably be a bit more inconspicuous than the Ectomobile.”

_“Fair comment, the booster seat is in there, shall we bring Jane?”_

“Yeah, might as well. The planes might help fuel her excitement.”

_“She’s been a bit climb-y lately. Loves to try and climb all over you when you’re sat down.”_

“Cheeky madam. How’s the Chickenpox?”

_“Thankfully didn’t last too long, so pretty much all gone. She’s still a bit scratchy, but nowhere near as bad as she was.”_

“Well, there’s some positive in all that. Has she really been good?”

_“One or two tantrums, but nothing we couldn’t sort. Other than that, yeah, good as gold.”_

“Well that’s great news. See you soon, Abs.”

 _“Yeah, see you soon, buddy.”_ Abby hangs up.

You wander over to join Erin, shaking with rage.

“What’s up, hon?” she asks, scared of the answer.

“I’m fuming. Mom’s done it again; she’s gone and left Dad, but he has cheated, lied, stolen anything – she just called it quits; kicked him out of her house. He’s got nowhere to go, but he’s asked if he can crash on my sofa … _our_ sofa, until he gets back on his feet.”

“That’s crazy. Why would she do that?”

“Because she’s a psychomaniac, who literally only thinks of herself.”

“It’s a bit risky having him stay, in case he stays for months.”

“I know, babe, I really do, but he hasn’t got a job and he’s got nowhere to live. I get it, I really do – he left me when I was young, so why should I put him up?”

“Because of your caring nature. You struggle to say no. That’s not a problem, or a downfall, you just need to be aware of whom you’re saying ‘yes’ to. And besides, what about your brothers?”

“So you’re saying I should tell him ‘no’?”

“Babe, it really is up to you, but he hasn’t been in your life for very long, so are you sure that you can fully trust him yet?”

“True. Urgh, why is this so hard?”

“We shall discuss it properly, and maybe ask Abs and Pats for advice. They’re on their way to come get us.”

“Okay, sounds like a plan, Stan. And as for my brothers, I don’t know. I should probably message or call them.”

“Yeah, might be an idea; see if you can negotiate with one of them about having your Dad to stay.”

* * *

After an hour’s wait, the familiar yellow-with-black-racing-stripe 68 Camaro Z28 skids to a halt behind a taxi, just a little way from where you are stood. Abby honks the horn, for added measure. Abby rolls down the electric window. “HEY, LADIES. YOUR CHARIOT AWAITS!” No sooner has she said that, Patty is out the passenger-side, round to the booster seat, and unbuckling a very excitable Jane.

She strides, with Jane on her hip towards you.

“Down, down, Aunty Patty.”

Patty obliges and within three seconds, Jane has rushed over to you and is now attempting to climb your leg. You scoop her up and launch her into the air, before catching her gracefully, spinning her around and then tipping her upside down, much to the dismay of Erin, but to the amusement of a now-giggling Jane.

“Uhh, dude, she just ate.”

You right her and set her on her feet on the ground. She pretends to sulk and thrusts her arms up for Erin to pick her up.

“Hey princess. How’s my big girl?”

Jane just grins, and pokes her tongue out at you.

“My word, Jane that tongue likes to come out doesn’t it. Put it away, darling.” You say, pretending to be cross, before blowing raspberries at her. She returns them, with a lot of spittle, which, of course, lands on your face. You pull a disgusted face, before wiping it. “Thanks for that, my love. Mama really needed spit in her face.”

She giggles. “Sowweee.”

Getting her back into the car proves to be a rather difficult task as she is more interested in what you have in your Duty Free bag (which wouldn’t fit in the backpack) rather than getting into the booster seat.

“Uh-duh-duh-duh-duh-duh…” you begin. “No, no, Janey, that’s not for you. That’s for Mommy and I, okay. You might have something, but you need to sit in the car properly, and nicely, no kicking legs, please…and certainly no sulks.”

She looks at the floor but stands still, waiting for you to pick her up, into the car and buckle her up. You sit next to her, with Erin squashed against the opposite window and Patty in the front – it’s gonna be a long drive.

The jetlag kicks in once more and as Patty starts a discussion with you, you feel your eyes getting heavy and within minutes you’re sound asleep, leaning on Erin, who’s asleep against the window. Jane pouts and Patty tells her that you’re both asleep, so she sits quietly so as to not disturb you.

Once you awaken, you find yourself outside your apartment; you wake up Erin and carry a now-sleeping Jane up the stairs, with Abby and Patty in tow, carrying your things. Unlocking the door, one handed, you pull the handle down and boot the door. It swings back and narrowly misses crashing into the wall.

You put Jane to bed and briefly sit down, before Abby and Patty leave you and Erin to unpack and relax in the comfort of your own home.

Tomorrow is another day, and you can tell them all about your honeymoon then, for now, the washing and ironing (something which Erin _insists_ on doing) needs to be done and then, it’s time to have something to eat and have a bath, before having an early night.


	44. Chapter 42

**_Tuesday 16 August, 2022_ **

The rain pours down and the lightning flashes, lighting up the whole sky and you wake up to the sound of deep rumbling. You roll over and check the time, your eyes are blurry, and so it takes a moment for them to adjust: _01:45_. _“Wonderful.”_ You think. As you lock the screen, your phone vibrates. It’s a message from an unknown number, but you can read the first bit in the preview screen: ‘HELP. MY BROTH…’ you unlock your phone, panic rising and suddenly becoming all sweaty. You sit up as you read the message, and then re-read it trying to digest the words. ‘HELP. MY BROTHER’S GONE MISSING. Danielle.’

“Erin, Erin, wake up. _Please_ , Erin, you _have_ to wake up.”

“Wh-wha-what’s the matter?” Erin rubs her eyes and takes in your panic stricken face. You turn the screen to her face and blind her. “Argh, that’s _bright_ , babe.”

“Sorry, sorry, but Kevin’s missing.”

“Kevin? As in our Kevin? Whom we saw like three days ago? That Kevin?”

“Only we _didn’t_ see him three days ago. We saw him a week ago, he said he had his Hide-and-Seek Tournament.”

“Oh, well, that’s where he will be, I’m sure he’ll be fine.”

“ _Listen_ to me, Erin. This message has come from Dani, which means he really _is_ missing; she wouldn’t just make that up. What sadist would do that?”

“Sadists.”

“Seriously, Erin, quit fucking around, and just help me, please. C’mon!” you stress, flinging the duvet back and exposing Erin’s naked bottom half. The door handle rattles and you throw on your Hugh Hefner dressing gown, whilst Erin covers herself.

It creaks open ajar and Jane is stood in the doorway.

“Mama, what’s going on?” she asks sleepily.

“Hey, hey, nothing, don’t worry, it’s all good.”

Jane bounces from foot to foot, before you usher her outside and close the bedroom door.

“She’s too energetic at this time.”

“Well, we know _who_ she got that from.” Erin quips.

“Well, I’m sorry I passed on my shitty ADHD trait.” You snap, sighing loudly. You lower your voice. _“One of these days, she’s gonna swear and truthfully, I won’t be at all surprised; by God I’m such a bad influence.”_

 _“Honey, you’re not…”_ Erin begins, voice equally as low “… _you actually only swear when you’re annoyed now. Like you always ask to ‘make love’ now, and not for a ‘fuck’.”_

 _“That’s true.”_ You say whispering in the dark and a loud crash from the thunderstorm echoes in the street.

“NO KISSES ABOVE THREE SECONDS!” Jane suddenly yells.

You tilt your head back. “Christ.”

Throwing open the door; you let Jane run past you and into your side of the bed next to Erin, who’s now wearing PJ bottoms.

“Mama has to do an errand, stay here with Mommy, okay, sweetie?” and with that, you’re out of the apartment.

* * *

Two hours have passed since you left to search for Kevin. You had met up with Danielle, Patty and Abby and had split off into pairs – You and Dani the one way, Abs and Pats the other.

“This takes the absolute fucking piss!” Dani snarls. “I don’t know where the fuck he is, but he’s really pissing me off. He only went for a fucking Hide-and-Seek Tournament. _How the fuck_ is he missing?”

“Perhaps he’s still hiding?” you offer.

“With his phone off? Yeah, good joke.”

“It could have died?”

Dani growls at you and stomps off further into the woods where his tournament was being held. She kicks at the leaves, with her hands thrust deep into her pockets and in this moment, you see her as a vulnerable small child; lost without her big brother and probably scared beyond belief. She suddenly stops, and sitting on an axed tree trunk, crosses one leg over the other and begins to cry. You stand a little in front of her and extend a hand. She takes it and you pull her up and into a hug, just as Abby and Patty round a large oak tree.

“Any luck?” you ask, over Dani’s loud tears.

Patty shakes her head.

Abby shrugs. “Nothing, I’m afraid, buddy.”

Dani rips herself from your grip and you drop your hands to your side. The rain, which had stopped an hour ago, begins again; heavy and cold.

“I think we need to get the police involved Dani.”

She scowls, kicks a leaf and pushes past you, knocking her shoulder, hard, against yours. You wince in the dark and follow her with your eyes. “I’m worried for her.” You say, glumly.

“Urgh, tell me about it, babe.” Patty says, sighing. “Want me to go talk to her?”

“You can try, Pats.”

“Okay, see you in a bit, Holtzy.” She wanders off in the dark, striding widely to keep up with Dani.

“Abs, I have a horrible feeling that something really bad might have happened to Kevin.”

“I know; I have that feeling too.”

You and Abby decide to stay put and wait for Dani and Patty to return. They do so, within a few minutes of wandering off.

“I’m tired.” Dani announces when she is still a little way off.

“Me too.” You say, yawning in the process.

“Take me home. Now.” She demands.

You nod silently and walk back the way you had come – well, in the way you would have come, if you had remembered the way. All the trees look the same to you in the half-light of dawn.

“Uhhhh…” you begin.

Abby notices the perplexed look etched across your face; brows pinched, forehead tight.

“We’re lost, ain’t we?” Patty asks, loudly, doing nothing to calm an already-nervous Danielle.

“We’re _not_ lost. To be lost, you have to know where it is you’re supposed to be, and I don’t even know that…” you pause, realising your admittance to being unable to locate the path. “That is to say, we might be lost, but also, we might not be lost…” you say, poetically.

“Get to the point. Do you know your way back to the car?”

“Uhm, no.” you say, looking at your boots. “I can’t remember which way we came.”

Abby sighs. “And this is why I brought electrical tape.”

“What?” you and Patty ask in unison.

“Yes, I knew that Holtz would be unable to remember where she was going; her sense of direction isn’t the best, under normal circumstances, so I thought of leaving ourselves a visible path. Just look for the green-and-yellow striped tape.”

“Excellent!” You exclaim, clapping your hands and laughing, in exactly the same manner as when Patty arrived with the first Cadillac.

Abby turns on her heel and quickly scans the trees. “There!” She exclaims, pointing at a bit of sticky tape attached to the tree trunk. Leading the way, you slink back and take up the rear, removing the tape as you pass each tree, muttering something about _“Save the trees.”_

Before too long, you’re back at the car and you’re clambering behind Erin’s steering wheel – You opted for inconspicuous, rather than driving the ‘hearse with a ghost on it and a distinctively un-American sounding siren’ according to Agent Hawkins. You grip it tightly, and twist your hands backwards, making the leather squeak. Putting on your belt, you idly check yourself out in the mirror and wait for the others to get in the car, shut the doors and belt up. The back doors _thud_ shut and Abby wriggles in the passenger seat.

“All belted? Can we go?” you ask, catching Dani’s eye.

She nods, gravely, and you put the car into reverse. Throwing a look over your shoulder, you drive your foot into the accelerator and hear the wheels squelching in the mud. You stop revving the engine and sigh. Trying again, the mud flicks up the sides of the car and you’re frustrated at the lack of movement. You stop pushing your foot down so hard and rev it lightly; still nothing. “Patty, get out and push.”

“Why me, man?”

“You’re the strongest.”

Patty sighs, grumbles incoherently and slams the car door, rounding to the front of the car. Putting her hands in the middle of the bonnet, she plants her feet firmly on the ground, and gives you a thumbs up, before gripping it again and waiting for you accelerate.

You slam the car back into reverse and floor it. Patty heaves the car and feels the mud sliding under her boots. At last the car moves; sliding back about two feet, you yank the steering wheel and spin the car, only for it to get stuck, halfway on the road, halfway up the banking, at an angle. You wind down the window. “Gonna have to shove her from the back-end!” You yell, over the roar of the engine, before realising what you’ve said and adding: “That’s what she said!”

“So immature, Holtzy.” Abby breathes.

Dani stifles a laugh, and ends up snorting in the backseat.

“Glad someone appreciated that!” you muse out loud.

Patty grumbles, yet again, and wanders to the rear of the car. You push the gearstick into first and wait for Patty to be positioned properly. She nods at you through the back window and you slam your foot hard onto the accelerator pedal. The car lurches forwards, wheels caught in the mud, shaking with the strain of being caught in the thick sludge. Patty bangs the boot, but you ignore her, pulling the gearstick into second gear.

“C’mon, c’mon, come the fuck onnn…Yes, yes, g’on…Attagirl…Patty!” you yell through the open window “Push harder, she’s nearly out the mud, come on, put your back into it!”

With one more push of the car, the wheels spin more freely, and flick up an unimaginable amount of mud, which splatters Patty, head-to-toe. You haven’t noticed and so you’re still trying to fully free the car.

Patty, half-blinded by cold mud, pushes the car with all her strength so it’s now on the road, before falling, face-down into the mud. You look out the side mirror and notice Patty isn’t there.

“Uh, Pats, dude? You okay?”

Patty arises slowly, like some mud monster rising from the peat and wipes her face before flipping you off. She frogmarches herself to your door and wrenches it open. Muddy face, inches from yours, she snarls. “What part of me banging on the back of the car to get you to stop didn’t you understand?”

“Erm, all of it. I didn’t know you were asking me to stop, I thought you were banging it for maximum effort. I am _so_ sorry that you fell in the mud.”

“You will be sorry, Holtzy.” She says, before laughing.

Your panic-stricken face softens, but only momentarily as Patty wipes off a clump of mud from her jacket and smears it down the side of your face. Your mouth drops open and you stare at her in disbelief. You wipe some off the other side of her jacket, and step away from the car door and shutting it behind you. You launch the ball of mud at Patty. It hits her square in the chest; not that it makes much difference.

Without even flinching, Patty throws some more mud at you and it hits your grey NASA t-shirt. “My NASA top!” You exclaim. “Oh, _it’s on!”_

For the next few minutes, Abby and Dani remain in the car, astounded that two fully grown adults are flinging mud at each other like children. You hold up a hand, to protect your face from any more mud, but Patty playfully grabs it and dumps you into a particularly wet pile of mud. She wrestles you as you try to stand and then momentarily sits on your bum, pinning your hands down.

You raise your head, spit out mud, gagging at its taste and admit defeat. “I yield, I yield. I’m sorry. Stop, please, Pats. Nooo, gerroff!”

She smacks your ass, hard, and gets up.

“Ow! Hey, no fair. That’s only Erin’s game.”

She slaps the other cheek and throws you over her shoulder, like a firefighter. Carrying you to the car, she looks at Abby who simply shakes her head.

“No way you’re getting in the car covered in mud. You can walk home, bitches.”

“But it’s miles away.” Your voice is muffled by Patty’s jacket.

“That’s not my problem. Start walking. And, it’s only two miles.”

Patty turns on her feel and begins walking down the road from the direction you originally came. As Patty walks, you’re bounced about on her shoulder, and you put your head in your hand, digging your elbow into her back. She gets the hint, stops and puts you down, carefully, so you’re facing her.

You roll your eyes at her and take her hand as you wander down the asphalt. You look at the floor as you walk, and feel yourself being dragged along by Patty. She stops once more and tells you to get on her back. You look confused, but jump on it, so she is piggyback carrying you down the road. You’re being bounced up and down as she strides and this lulls you to sleep, your arms closing around Patty’s throat. She chokes and nearly drops you, startling you from your light slumber. As your bodyweight slides down her back, you instinctively grapple for some sort of perch, and end up throttling her, so she releases you and you land, heavily, on your coccyx on the road. You cry out and bite the inside of your cheek.

The Camaro slides to a stop, gravel crunching underneath and headlights illuminating two mud monsters in the road. Leaving the engine on, Abby gets out and rushes to help the pair of you. Patty is clutching her throat, gasping for air and you’re crying silently from your fall.

“Okay, what happened here, kids?” Abby asks, turning into a caring-yet-exasperated mother.

“I don’t know. I was being piggybacked, fell asleep, woke up slipping, then _wham!_ on the floor.”

“You…choked…me” Patty gasps, coughing.

“I’m so, so sorry, really, I am, man.”

Patty holds up a hand to stop you from speaking, flips you off, gags and glares at you. You sulk. Gingerly picking yourself up, you give your ass a quick rub, before sprinting … well, more _hobbling_ – down the road, away from the girls.

“Aw, shit, where’s she going now? Christ, she’s like a fucking child.” Abby says.

“I think she’s off her meds, Abby. She’s been acting like a 5 year old for the last month.” Patty says, blowing air through her lips.

“Shit, really? I thought Erin bought them CBD oil?”

“She did; mostly for her. Apparently Holtz had a meeting on 1 August, _and_ attended it, but whether she actually takes her medication is a whole ‘nother problem in itself.”

“I’m gonna ring Erin.”

“Is that a good idea?”

“We’ve been out for almost three hours, she needs an update.”

“True.” Abby agrees.

Abby gets back in the car, whilst a shivering Patty rings Erin. She becomes animated and paces up and down, passing the headlights.

“So, we’re all crazy.” Abby says to Dani, turning in the driver’s seat.

“What’s happening? Where did Holtzmann go?”

“Holtz is having a Holtz-moment, she will come back, but it has just come to my attention that she might not be taking her medications, which she needs.”

“Oh, shit. That sounds serious. What medication?”

“ADHD medication and antidepressants; nothing for her Asperger’s, but she has coping mechanisms. Storming off is one of them; a bad coping mechanism, but one, nonetheless.”

“Have you tried cannabis? That helps me with my depression and anxiety.”

“She accidentally had some weed brownies a long time ago, and she ended up seeing 40 grey aliens, and thought she had been abducted for hours. So we don’t want to go through that again. Although…she did have some at her wedding, as you’re very well aware.”

“Oh, yeah, I remember that shitstorm. Hang on; I’ve got some cannabis on me… Let’s see what I can do.”

“You’ve got canna—dare I ask?”

“Quentin. He needs it for his PTSD. I swipe it for recreational purposes.”

Dani hops out the car and races down the road, trying to locate you. “HOLTZMANN!” she calls into the dawn light. “HOLTZMANN, HEY, I GOT SOMETHING TO HELP YOU. WHERE ARE YOU?!”

You march on, through the thicket, jaw clenched, blood boiling in your veins. You really need to start taking your medication again, these tantrums aren’t helping anyone.

“HOLTZ!” Dani’s voice sounds closer now. You wheel round, losing your balance, and nearly falling over a tree branch. She rushes to close the gap and pulls you forward, sharply, accidentally planting a kiss on your lips. You pull back immediately and stare at her as she blushes.

“Okay, no, that was _not_ what I wanted to give you.” She rubs a hand over the back of her neck and fumbles in her pocket, producing a paper, filter and grinder. Unblinking you watch her make a spliff, before holding it up proudly. “ _This_ is what I wanted to give you. You need to calm down; you’re really stressed, and I don’t want you to be stressed, or upset, or whatever you’re going through. Just, just smoke it with me, yeah?”

You open and close your mouth, still thinking about that kiss; _wrongly_ thinking about that kiss. Your heart starts thumping in your chest, and you’re sure Dani can hear it. _‘Fuck, what’s wrong with me?! I’m married and I want to kiss her again. Oh, my God, no, Holtz, you can’t cheat on Erin. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.’_ You think to yourself, looking at Dani’s luscious lips and subconsciously licking your own.

You snatch the spliff off her and she produces a cheap lighter. You flick it and a huge flame _whooshes_ out the top, nearly taking off your eyebrows. You pull back and widen your eyes.

“Oh, yeah, I forgot about that.” She says, taking it off you and lowering the flame. She lights the spliff and hands it back to you. You stare into her green eyes and take a long, deep puff.

“Oi, puff-puff-pass, dingbat.” You stick up a middle finger and turn away from her, taking several more deep drags. By the time you hand it back to her, your eyes are narrow and heavily bloodshot. You’re lightheaded, but much more relaxed. You grin overbearingly at her and start back towards the road. She remains a little way behind you and continues to smoke. As you reach the car, you decide to show off and snatch the spliff from Dani’s mouth, brandishing it between your teeth as you arrive to find a less-than-pleased Erin stood, hands on hips, talking to Patty. You take the spliff out of your mouth and you’re in the process of handing it back when Jane shouts your name from Abby’s arms.

“MAMA!”

Erin whirls around and notices the spliff halfway between your fingers and Dani’s and her expression changes to that of anger.

 _“Holtz.”_ She hisses. _“First you cover Patty in mud, then you get into a mud fight with her, and now you’re smoking?”_ she turns to Patty. “ _Please keep Jane with you, I don’t need her to be smelling her mother and getting second-hand high. You… You’re coming with me.”_ She says, jabbing a finger into your chest.

She drags you off to the other side of the road and Dani sheepishly wanders over, before grabbing Erin’s wrist. “Sorry, that’s my fault, Erin. I apologise. Please don’t yell at Holtz. I’m the one that put it in her mouth and lit it and I’m sorry. I didn’t know that was a no-no, nor did I ask. I’m _really_ sorry. I know, I’m a really bad influence, but Holtz is … was … stressed because she fell off Patty’s back and I didn’t want her to be lost in the woods, angry and upset, so I tried to calm her down. I’m so, so sorry.”

Erin sighs.

“I’m a mess, Erin, my brother’s gone missing, and we still can’t find him and you lot have been nice enough to help me search for him and I choose a bad thing to repay your kindness and I…” she bursts into tears and Erin’s face softens. She pulls her into a hug, giving you daggers. You sigh quietly, still feeling very high.

“I’m not mad at Holtz for smoking weed, I’m mad because our daughter is here and I don’t want her to know about drugs. Ever.”

“That’s understandable.” Dani says.

You remain silent, swallowing your thoughts.

“Also…” Dani begins “Holtz fell over and I…” You stare at her, eyes extremely wide, willing her not to tell Erin about the accidental lip lock. You subtly shake your head and Dani catches your eye. “I stopped her from falling backwards; couldn’t have her getting hurt again.” You silently breathe a sigh of relief.

Erin places a hand on her shoulder. “Thank you. Right, let’s get the two mud monsters back to the apartment; I brought towels. You two had better go with Abby and Patty had better come with me.” You nod and go to tell Patty. Patty nods at you and pulls a face at the strong smell wafting from your clothes. Jane, who had been put back in the Ecto during this ordeal, waves at you and you wave back. Erin busies herself putting a towel down in the passenger seat for Patty, the same for you, before getting behind the wheel of the Ecto, watching you jump in next to Abby and narrowly missing your head on the doorframe; Dani isn’t as lucky and clobbers the top of hers on the backdoor.

You hear the _thunk_ of her head and wince, as she clutches it, whimpering. You pull a pained face and check that she is alright. She nods, despite her face being pinched in pain.

* * *

Once out of the shower, you pad across the carpet to the bed and clamber in, still wrapped in your towel. Erin enters and shoos you from the bed. You look upset and apologetic and announce that you’re going to the lab early to “work on a few things”. You get dressed, throw your wet hair up in a messy bun, kiss her cheek, and snatch up your medicine bottles, stuffing them into your pocket, before shrugging and leaving out the door, just as a t-shirt-and-shorts clad Patty enters the living room from the direction of the bathroom. It was too late for you all to go home to your separate abodes and so you put the girls up again, loaning Patty an oversized t-shirt and basketball shorts, which she didn’t even know you possessed, as pyjamas.

“Dude, where are you going now? We’ve just got back, come on, don’t go AWOL again.”

“I’m going to the lab. I need to work on some things.”

“What you need to work on are your tantrums, Holtzy. You’ve had too many recently, dude.” She says firmly, but also caring.

You pull a plastic orange bottle, with white lid, from your pocket; the other packet falling to the floor. You toss it in Patty’s direction. She catches it, rattling the small white tablets inside and reads the label: DR J. HOLTZMANN. ADDERALL XR, 30mg. TAKE ONE, THREE TIMES A DAY, NO MORE THAN THREE TABLETS IN 24 HOURS, TAKEN EVERY 4 HOURS.

“There, now my tantrums can go away.”

“Glad to see you’re back on your tablets, man.”

“Yeah, whatever.” You say, sharply. You check your watch: 06:00. “Suppose I had better take one of them now.”

“Have you taken any yet?”

“Nope, should be 100 in there; count them if you like.”

Erin pokes her head around the door. “Have you taken your Adderall yet?”

You sigh. “No, but I’m about to.”

“Oh good.” She says, sauntering off to the bathroom to fill a glass with water.

“What’s up, ladies?” Abby asks, entering the apartment. You hadn’t even realised that she had gone.

Patty tosses the container at Abby, who catches it one handed. “Oh, thank God.” You scowl at her, holding your hand out, then pushing your fingertips to your palm and extending them again. “Jillian, we care about you, okay? You might think we’re annoying, but we don’t want you to go off the rails. You’re always dialled up to 15 and it can be very stressful for us all when you wander off, or kick and stamp your feet, or zone out and don’t listen. We know you don’t mean it, but you have things in place to help and you don’t help yourself by refusing to take your medication. I know swallowing tablets whole is a big problem for you, but outright refusing to take them, doesn’t help your mental state, and as much as we love you, it wears us out. I love you, but I get so drained.” Abby says, wandering over and placing the bottle into your open palm.

“Is, is that how you all feel?” you ask in a small voice. You suddenly feel very overwhelmed and have a nasty thought of self-harm, for the first time in over 20 years, pop into your head. You frantically search in your pocket for your other tablets – your antidepressants – but can’t find them. The obtrusive thoughts get stronger and stronger and you know your mental health is about to plummet rapidly. “Help me.” You squeak, shaking, crying and finding yourself rocking on the floor. Concerned for your health, the girls crowd you. “I can’t breathe. Gimme space.” You splutter between sobs. You angrily launch the bottle of Adderall across the room, where it hits a back wall and pops a hole in the bottom, spilling its contents. You clutch at your hair and feel like you need to rip it out. You groan loudly and your rocking intensifies. Your breathing becomes heavy and rapid – you’re hyperventilating. The girls take a step back, but this does nothing to dispel the feelings in your head. Your nose begins to bleed and Erin panics, thinking you’re having an aneurysm.

“Holtz?!” she asks frantically, rushing to the bathroom to grab tissues, whilst Patty runs to get ice. Abby checks to make sure Jane is still asleep, afraid that you will frighten her. You’re still rocking, clawing at your hair, trying to pull fistfuls of it out. Abby comes back and holds both your hands, whilst Patty wraps the ice in a teatowel and carefully places it on the nape of your neck to cool your blood.

“Holtz? Baby, talk to me.” Erin says, on the verge of tears. “What do you need? Do we need to take you to the hospital?”

You shake your head.

“Was it what I said?” Abby asks, feeling responsible and embarrassed.

You shrug. Erin notices the packet of antidepressants to one side. “Babe, your antidepressants, do you need one?”

You nod furiously, making your nose drip blood at a faster pace. She reads the packet and pops out one, before handing you the halved tablet and the glass of water from earlier. You take them, reluctantly, and sit quietly, still rocking, tissue held to your nose; head tipped forwards, waiting for it to kick in.

“Yo, is that a panic attack?”

“Anxiety attack, I think.” Erin says, suddenly much calmer.

“Um, aren’t they the same thing?”

“No, anxiety attacks can be much stronger. Babe?” Erin asks, rhetorically.

You nod gently.

“Okay, honey, can I ask something serious, please?” you shrug.

The four of you lapse into silence, waiting for the antidepressant to kick in and your nose to stop bleeding – nothing to do with an aneurysm, literally just from the anxiety and the stress. Miraculously, Jane has slept through the entire ordeal.

You breathe deeply and loudly, stilling your agitated heartbeat. “Question, Erin, shoot.” You say, breaking the silence.

“Okay, so, what were you thinking?”

“I wanted to kill myself.”

“Woah, fuck.” Patty says, dropping to the couch, hands flying to her mouth in shock.

A solemn silence befalls you and the atmosphere becomes tense.

Abby suspects it’s her fault and begins to apologise, eyes welling up. She rarely cries, but this time, she allows herself to.

“I haven’t had thoughts like that for over 20 years; and I panicked. I felt ashamed, and I panicked because I was so fucking close to necking the entire bottle, that’s why I threw it.”

Abby, still crying, pulls you in for a tight hug and weeps into your shoulder. “I’m so sorry I made you feel that way. I didn’t mean anything by it; I love you so very much, Jillian, I really, really, _really_ do. I didn’t mean to make you feel-”

“Unwanted? Unloved? Judged?” you interrupt.

Abby shakes, realising that she potentially could have been the sole cause of your death, and then gags. “I think I’m gonna be sick.” She says, getting up off the floor to relieve herself.

“So that _was_ an anxiety attack?” Patty asks, delicately.

“Well, it was depression, anxiety and an Autistic meltdown all rolled into one – the depression was the thoughts, the anxiety was the rapid pulse, heavy breathing – the embarrassment of allowing myself to think those thoughts, and the Autism was the rocking. I think that’s why I gave myself a nosebleed. Thank God, Jane stayed asleep. I think I might have frightened the poor girl. I’m gonna call that an ‘Anxdeptism meltdown’. If that happens again, y’all know what’s happening and how to handle it.”

“Honey, if you take your antidepressants and Adderall daily, as you’re supposed to, then I’m hoping that attack _won’t_ happen again.”

“Okay, false alarm.” Abby announces. “Just dry heaving. All good out here?”

“Yeah, fine now from my Anxdeptism.”

“Your whaddy-what-what?”

“Don’t ask.” Patty says.

You sigh and apologise to the girls, with Abby shaking her head and counteracting your apology with one of her own.

“You know I didn’t mean any of that.”

“I know. I was on the verge of spiralling anyway; I think that was the iceberg that sunk the Titanic.” You stroll over in the direction of the launched medicine bottle and see a hundred little white pills scattered in the corner, by the floor lamp. “Well, I look like a druggie.” You say, chuckling, lightening the mood. Erin shakes her head and sidles over to join you. “Anyone got a spare bottle?” You inquire, getting on your hands and knees to begin gathering up the small pills.

“You’re an engineer, Holtz.” Abby starts. “You’ve got Duct Tape, use that.”

“Ooh…” your voice falls into dulcet “…yano, I didn’t actually think of that. Heh.”

“I’m good for something.”

You leave the tablets, smack Erin’s ass and amble over to Abby, planting a heavy kiss on her cheek. “You’re good at everything. And you Patty. And you, Queenie.” You say, indicating at Erin’s ass with your foot. You slide, in your tube socks, across the tiled floor and straddle her, much to your enjoyment, and the discomfiture of your other colleagues. You lie across her back, and drape your arms over her shoulders, looking like a baby monkey sprawled over its mother’s back. You place feverish kisses on her cheeks and hold her, just below her elbows, opposite hand, to opposite arm; pinning her down. She chuckles awkwardly.

“What now?” she queries, having not heard you.

“I said that the girls are good at everything, and you are good at everything too. You’re all so very caring, and I don’t deserve your friendship with the way I’ve been acting lately. I’m hoping that the higher dosage helps me and I get back to the way I was; more calm, less sporadic, less running on a motor, and less volatile like Trinitrohexahydrotriazine; and less prone to outbursts, violence, depression and meltdowns. I know I apologise, repeatedly, and it’s probably worn a bit thin, but I _truly_ am regretful about my behaviour, over these last couple of years. I am ashamed that my lack of self-care has affected your feelings towards me, and has affected your caring capacities. Here, look…” you pick up an Adderall pill and pop it in your mouth. You attempt to dry-swallow, but you heave. “Nope.” You get the glass of water and flood your mouth with the cool liquid. You swallow rapidly and, astonishingly, you swallow the pill (which is about the same size as a round 50mg paracetamol tablet) whole. “Okay, I just swallowed that whole. I call that a personal victory.” You say, punching the air.

“Well, done, baby.” Erin says, kissing you wholeheartedly on the lips, spilling the water on the tiles. The glass tilts and Abby swoops in to snatch it from your hands. Your right hand flies up behind Erin’s head and the other on the small of her back. You pull her in close, and for the first time in what seems like forever, you kiss her passionately, tongue dancing with hers. At this point, Abs and Pats are used to it, so they don’t pull any faces, like at the start of your relationship.

“Okay, ladies, are you done?” Abby asks.

You pull away from Erin and close the gap between you and Abby.

“Uhh…” she begins, before you plant a wet, but playful kiss upon her lips. She looks stunned and Erin gives you the side-eye.

You tap Abby’s cheek. “I’m just playing.”

“Oh, no, no, nooo! Dude, stahp!” Patty says, but you’ve managed to dodge her flailing arms and plant an equally wet kiss on her lips.

“Uhm, excuse me, madam, what do you think you’re doing?” Erin says, feigning anger and putting her hands on her hips.

“Kissing my best friends. Yano, girls should kiss their girlfriends more often. Platonic kisses should be allowed, yo.”

“Hugs are fine, yo.” Patty says, wiping her face. Abby says nothing on account of the fact that you and her had actually hooked up.

Patty looks between the three of you. “Okay, I’m missing something here. What is it?”

“Nothin’” you mumble.

“Abby and Holtz hooked up; well, actually dated for…six months, I believe.”

“Yo! Is that true?”

“Yes, in 2009.” You admit, flushing red.

“Oh, snap! How was it?”

“Well, the sex was fucking brilliant, but, sorry Abs, Erin’s _much_ better. She makes me squirt and vice versa.”

“NO, JESUS, HOLTZ! OVERSHARE!” Patty shouts, overly loud. You hear Jane crying.

“Fuck’s sake, you woke the baby.” You sigh, Patty grimaces and mouths ‘sorry’.

“I’ll go cupcake, you tell your little story.” Erin is gone before you can protest.

“I dunno, I was 24, she was 29. It just, well, sorta happened.”

“Holtz, if you’re gonna tell the story, tell it right. Okay…” Abby clears her throat, Patty sits on the sofa and you perch on the opposite one’s arm, “…so Holtz and I were both at Kenneth P. Higgins Institute of Science, as you are very well aware, and we started working on projects together – actually it was actualising what Erin and I theorised about in our book…” Patty nods, you chew your thumb, “Holtz and I were working non-stop, and you know how she is around people she likes; not just friends, but someone she wants to hook up with, she dials up the charm factor to 100 and flirts relentlessly, pretty much until you give in? Yeah, well that was her, with me. The flirting was ridiculous and relentless – full of innuendos and jokes about fire making things ‘too hot for us’ and the like. Well, one day, I come into the lab at the University, to find this demon – not an actual demon, Holtz – standing there virtually topless, in nothing but a tiny sports bra, furiously scrubbing something off her white tank top; to this day I still have _no idea_ what it was; she refuses to tell me, and that day I had had some bad news and I _needed_ to take my mind off things. Now bear it in mind, that we had been working in _close_ proximity for nearly three years by this point, and when I say close, I mean her intense staring, lingering touches and like zero room to move without touching her…”

“Yes, I know those all too well. Tried a few of those on me, until I started to make heterosexual jokes, then she backed off and hasn’t tried it since.”

You chuckle awkwardly.

“Yes, right, well, all that, for three bloody years. So, yeah, this one day, shit news, Holtz topless… Let’s just say, I was very much distracted. Okay, now prior to this, Erin and I had already kissed and she, well, felt me up, but it was too awkward because we were like sisters, but with Jillian, it was different. I couldn’t place it, it just was.

You shrug and Erin returns, having settled Jane.

“Sit down and listen, Erin, it’s getting interesting.” Patty says, gesturing to the chair.

“Wait, you mean it wasn’t interesting before?” Abby queries.

Patty shrugs and gets comfortable on the sofa.

“Right, no, stop, I’ll tell it, I can probably remember it better.”

“Well, yeah, you do have a high attention to detail, so yeah, you tell it.”


	45. Chapter 43

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologise for the jump in linear time!
> 
> I do that quite a bit; jump forwards in years, then jump back, then forwards to the present day, then forwards again to the future.
> 
> It always seems like a good idea at the time!

_Friday 8 May, 2009_

_Laboratory of Dr A Yates and Dr J Holtzmann, Kenneth P. Higgins Institute_

_11:36am_

“What are you doing, Professor Holtzmann?” Abby asks.

You mumble incoherently under your breath. This is the third time this week that you have spilled motor oil on your nice _white_ tank tops; you made a mental note after the first incident to replace them with black, but alas you never got around to it. You check your watch and notice that you’re 6 minutes late taking your Adderall – ‘something to help with your Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder, or ADHD’ – the words echo around your head for the umpteenth time.

You first heard the words 9 years ago, when you were 15, but they still didn’t resonate with you. You knew what they meant, just didn’t understand the cognitive side of it all, without proper research, and by proper research, you mean studying your own brain to learn more and to adapt. For now, these 15mg white pills would aid in slowing your overactive brain, help you to focus, keep your attention, remember important information, and, and this was the crucial part: to slow you down – verbally, mentally and physically. It’s like you’re run off a highly strung mechanism which does not stop. You take the pill and struggle to swallow it; pain and a dryness lining your throat.

Professor Yates notices you wincing and approaches your desk – a messy web of entangled wires, random metal instruments; which either served little-to-no purpose or were used so frequently that they were now starting to rust, blueprints, a notepad, with illegible ‘doctors’ handwriting, and something which resembled a vibrator. It wasn’t one of those, but it was about the same size and shape of one, but emitted a red glow. You had bought it off eBay many moons ago, and now you have no recollection of what it is, what its purpose is and what it’s used for (you were half-tempted several years ago to actually fashion a vibrator out of it, but you wrote that idea off when you realised its battery power was double-strength of one and you didn’t fancy electrocuting yourself _down there.)_

“You okay, Doc?” she asks, concerned, but also relaxed about the whole thing – firstly, she called you ‘Doc’; she only ever calls you ‘Doctor’ or ‘Professor’, so this was largely out of character.

You nod, trying to put away your medicine bottle; something which she already knows about. “Just needed to take my meds, sorry, I’ll be focused in a minute, and then we can continue actualising all your theories in that book of yours. Hey, yano I’ve written a book!”

“Actually, come to think of it, I’m not sure you actually have told me about that one.”

“Oh, it’s called ‘ _Nuclear Engineering 101: A Beginner’s Guide’._ It’s been published by Bloomsbury Publication.”

“Hey, that’s pretty neat, Professor.”

“Uhm, okay, this is gonna sound weird, but can we drop the whole ‘Professor’ thing, it feels weird being known as that. I mean, you can call me Doctor Jillian Holtzmann, if you want, no, actually, no, never mind that, ‘Holtzmann’. Holtzmann will do just fine.”

“Oh, sure, I mean, whatever you’re comfortable with, _Holtzmann._ Anyway, I’m glad you remembered your medication, I know you admitted remembering isn’t your strong suit. And, yeah, whilst we’re on the subject, call me ‘Abby’ and not ‘Professor Yates’”

“Gotcha. And no, remembering things aren’t my strong…anyway, shut up, I’m 24 for God’s sake; I should be able to remember.”

“And I’m 29 and can never remember which day is general waste and which day is recycling.”

“Thursday. General waste is Thursday on campus. And Tuesday is recycling.”

“Well, there we go. We need each other; we’re a team, you and I.”

Abby closes the gap between you. After years of flirting with her, could this really be happening right now? You’re intrigued, but also really flustered and you’re beginning to panic. You look about for an easy escape, should you need one, but before you have time to suss out your chosen route, Abby’s warm, full and soft lips are pressed against you and the wind is knocked from your chest. You hold your breath and stumble backwards into the desk, knocking the instruments to the floor, where they hit the tiles with a _clang._ This noise, however, alerts someone in the corridor and as the door handle creaks down, you stop kissing Abby and whip around behind her, hiding from the intruder.

David Westcliffe enters, bag slung low over one shoulder, his hair side swept, just covering his hazel eyes. His boyish charm and chiselled jaw usually makes all the girls swoon, but presently it is tight and you can see the bone protruding.

“Hey Professor Yates, is everything alright? I heard a clatter outside and I wanted to check if things were alright. You’re not hurt are you?”

“No, David, I’m fine. Thanks for asking, I literally just tripped over my feet and hit Professor Holtzmann’s desk.”

Without warning you sneeze. _“Fuck.”_ You mouth.

“Oh, shit, I’m sorry, you’re busy, I’ll, erm… wait, Professor, are you sleeping with a student? I won’t tell anyone if you are.” He asks, noticing the tank top on the floor.

You exhale silently and use this as the moment in which to reveal yourself. You scoot round the side of Abby and pick up your long-forgotten top. Throwing it over your head, you stand there, hands on hips, looking at David’s shocked face.

“Wait, you’re sleeping with the Nuclear Engineering Professor?” he asks, mouth agape.

“No, David, we’re not sleeping together.”

“Then, excuse me, Professor Holtzmann, why was your shirt on the floor?”

“Okay, David, see this stain on the front? Okay, good, now look at it and imagine why my top was off.”

“Ohh, so you were just cleaning it?”

“Yes.”

“Before you had sex?”

“Ye—what, no! Jesus, David, we’re not sleeping together!”

“Yes, but, Holtzmann, you’re gay, dude.”

You cough, surprised by his bluntness. “What now?”

“Everyone knows you’re a lesbian. The students, the faculty staff; the entire Science Department.”

“How, how do they know that?”

“The way you dress; very 80s, very queer. You have a manly swagger when you walk and you’re always checking out certain staff members asses.”

“I do _not_ do that!” you protest, highly embarrassed by these truths; but you won’t let him catch on.

“But, Professor Yates, I didn’t know _you_ were gay.”

“I’m not. Just because I share a lab with a gay woman, does not make me gay.”

“Okay, dudes, just chill, okay. I have English next…” he sighs dreamily “I really hope Yvette is wearing her pencil skirt today.” He bites his lower lip.

“Someone’s hot for teacher.” You say, laughing.

David instinctively covers his crotch, just in case. “Okay, don’t tell Yvette that I fancy her, and I won’t tell anyone that you’re finger banging each other.”

“F-f-finger banging?!” you splutter. “David, what century are you in? Nobody calls it finger banging.”

“Well, you don’t have cocks, so how else are you…” he trails off, seeing the look of horror on your face and Abby’s unamused expression. “Okay, well I’mma bounce. Keep it chill, homos. Peace!” he throws up a peace sign and slams the door behind him.

“Did he really just say ‘finger banging’?” You ask, rhetorically.

“Yup.” Abby says, shaking her head. “So, uhm, where were we?”

You close the gap and return the kiss; with more zeal than hers.

“I meant with the book.”

You turn a deep scarlet and avoid eye contact with her. “S-so, what was that before then?” you question, pulling at your earlobe.

“What was what?” Abby asks, pretending not to know.

“The kiss… you kissed me. Why?”

“Do you honestly have to question _everything_? Can’t you just be a little spontaneous?”

“I can’t – my Asperger’s won’t let me. I need to have a clear, thought-out plan; a list and I have to know the answers to any and all questions. So, I’ll ask again, what was that kiss for?”

“It felt right.” Abby shrugs.

“No, no. A kiss can’t just ‘feel right’… there has be a motive behind it; some intention. People don’t go around randomly kissing people because it ‘feels right’. There has to be more to it than that … like, detail the _feelings_. Emotionally, mentally, kisses _mean_ something; they cause us to _feel_ things and I won’t accept that as an answer.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re highly pedantic?”

“Lots of times. I’ve lost countless friends because of it, so I pride myself in being a bit of a loner.”

“Well, that sucks, really does. Well, okay, pedantries aside, I don’t know why I did it, I just _did.”_

You shake your head; still unsatisfied.

“You really want to probe me for an answer, don’t you?”

You grin devilishly and nod.

Abby lapses into silence and you wonder if you’ve gone too far; yet again. “We’ve known each other for four years, correct?”

You check your watch. “4 years, 2 weeks, 3 hours and… fif—no, sixteen minutes.”

“Pedantic!”

“Oh.”

“Right, so we’ve known each other for 4 years, and we’ve been working on this project for 2 years – don’t you dare!”

You close your mouth again.

“We’ve been working in close proximity for all that time, and this lab isn’t particularly big with all our… _your_ … equipment in here, so movement is pretty restricted, so getting to know someone on a one-to-one, invading-your-personal-space basis, makes for some interesting conversations, hours wiled away in one’s own head, thinking of meanings, intentions, and the obnoxious flirting…”

“Obnoxious?! That’s something I most definitely am _not._ Arrogant, more than likely, but _obnoxious?_ Abby that hurts me.”

“Sorry, okay, the _arrogant_ flirting… you’re consistent, I’ll give you that.”

You beam, eyes lighting up.

“The daily philandering isn’t hard to notice, and you grabbed my attention a while ago… and, well, I _think_ , that there…”

“Oh, God, the suspense is killing me. Spit it out, dude.”

Abby swallows, and then bites her lower lip. “I think I might have _feelings_ for you… I don’t know. I mean, I don’t even know if I am… yano… I don’t…” She covers her eyes, sighing loudly.

“Well, I like you too.”

“That’s not the same thing. Of course you _like_ me; we wouldn’t be sharing a lab together, if you didn’t. And you certainly wouldn’t help me with the theories in the book.”

“No, no, like you said… I think the feelings are mutual. I mean, okay, yeah, I do flirt with people, that’s just my personality, but like, I get you, you get me; you _respect_ me. You know I’m weird and different and that’s okay with you and, well…”

Abby shuts you up with another kiss on your lips, and holds your hand tentatively. You lace your fingers with hers. She pulls away. “That’s what I mean, your lips are so… but, I… oh, God… I don’t even know if I’m…”

“Gay?” you offer. “Nobody does; sexuality is fluid. Be who you are and love who you love, man. We spend all day experimenting with Physics, so why don’t we experiment a little with Biology. Clearly that’s what needs to be happening right now. Like a case study!”

“Is everything so routine and relatable to something else?”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning that you want this to be a ‘case study’, so that you can gather scientific data to ascertain particular information, for your databases, or your personal gratification.”

“I highly dislike that remark.”

“Well what is it then?”

“What’s what?”

“‘Experiments in Biology’ what’s that all about?”

You shrug. “I dunno. I’m sorry.”

“Is it possible to be gay for someone but not be gay yourself?”

“Pro’ly. Anything’s possible, if you just put your mind to it. I mean, I have a gay lad best friend, and he was with his boyfriend for 14 months … He’s now married to a woman.”

“Does that not make him bisexual?”

“Not when the only guy he wants to bang is his ex and doesn’t look at guys, and largely gets repulsed by their behaviour… apparently.”

Abby pulls a face. “Oh, I see. Okay.”

“So, what do you want to do?”

“About the book, or…?”

“Us; is there gonna be an ‘us’ in a relationship capacity, or just an ‘us’ in work colleagues capacity.”

“We’ll see. Let’s just see how things turn out and we’ll go from there, okay?”

You blow a raspberry and saunter off to a bookcase on the opposite side of the room. You’re not looking for anything in particular, you just think that now is probably a good opportunity to let Abby breathe; give her space, that sort of thing. And so you can process things yourself. Abby nods at you and returns to her desk.

* * *

_Tuesday 12 May, 2009_

_Laboratory of Dr J. Holtzmann and Dr A. Yates_

_21:00 – After Hours._

“I knew you couldn’t resist my charm. Consistency pays off, yano.”

“Holtzmann, we _need_ to focus on this book.”

“Then stop kissing me.”

“I-I can’t.” she hangs her head. You lift up her chin and look into her light-green eyes. “You’re gonna get us in trouble, Holtz.” She states playfully, shortening your name for the first time in over ten years.

“Ab...” you begin. “Abby, how am I gonna get you into trouble? We’re both consenting adults and plenty of other staff members are sleeping with each other; something that we’re not doing, by the way. We’re literally _only_ kissing.”

“That’s the thing; I don’t want it to be that.”

“Oh.” You sound disappointed.

“Not what I meant.”

“Then be my girlfriend.” You blurt out, before realising what you’ve said and letting your hands cover your mouth in horror. You stare at her intensely and every part of you tells you to run, to get out of that situation.

“I’d love that, actually.” Abby replies, smiling.

You don’t quite hear her. “Wait, what?”

“I’ve had time to ruminate and I would love to be your girlfriend.”

“Oh, wow, okay, cool, yeah.” You reply, stunned.

“Are you okay, Holtz?”

“Yes, yes, yes, I, er, yes, I-I-I…” You open and close your mouth, no more words formulating. You nod quickly, gesturing as you do so, before pursing your lips together.

“Good, well, what does one do when they’re official with you? Stupid question, I know, but whenever I have a boyfriend, he takes me to see some shitty film I have _zero_ interest in.”

“What do you wanna do? We can continue conducting experiments here in the lab, or get some takeout and go back to my dorm.”

“Wait, you have a dorm?”

“Yes … Uhm, I dislike using this term, but as a ‘disabled’ faculty member, I get to stay on campus. Relieves the stress of having to find somewhere off-site, which, given my age, I can’t exactly afford; and also, given my age, I have to stay with the mature students, which can be pretty awkward.

“Oh, I can imagine; especially with the loud sex, the walks of shame, the embarrassment of passing you in the corridor?” Abby ponders.

“Yes, or realising that I’ve heard _everything_ and now I’m teaching them class! Oh, and to top that off, I’m the _same_ age as 80% of the students in my halls, _and_ I’m teaching them science. Heh ha!”

Abby blows a raspberry and pulls up a chair.

“Of course, they think they know _everything_ and I had a couple of Fresher’s challenge me a month ago … made for some rather interesting conversations, like this one, in particular…” you chuckle heartily, remembering one with a female student, who was 21 at the time.

You sit down on your stool and tuck your feet behind the horizontal support bar. “Okay, so this girl, Lucy, she’s a mature student of 21, right. She walks into the lecture hall and sits down, right at the front, and looks down her nose at me; which I instantly get the vibe that she’s bitchy… anyway, that-that’s by-the-by… so, yeah, she sits down, looks down her nose at me and waits for her mates to arrive. Cue incessant high-pitched squealing and giggling, which is _really, fucking_ triggering for me… sorry, I didn’t mean to swear… the volume, the incessancy of it all…” you stutter, inadvertently setting yourself on edge.

You bounce your foot, calming yourself down, trying to avoid a sensory meltdown. “So my eyes are closed, at the front of the classroom and I’m _trying_ to focus on my breathing, and not let their 15 million decibels get to me. Anyway, Lucy wanders over and tells me to sit down, thinking I’m new, and politely says: ‘You’ll have to sit down, Fresher, cos the tutor will be here soon.’ My eyes flutter open and I’m astounded that she thinks _I’m_ a student. I try to stifle a laugh, but end up sort of half snorting, half choking, and she full on glares at me. I then tell _her_ to sit down. She looks confused, but does so anyway… I digress… I start writing formulae on the white board as more students filter in – now bear in mind it’s a Monday morning and the lecture is at 9am… _most_ of the students are hungover from partying all weekend… irrespective of that, Lucy, thinking she knows _everything_ about Nuclear Engineering and Particle Physics, loudly announces that my formulae are wrong and that I should let a _real_ professor attend to the class. Whipping around, I death stare her and say: ‘Well excuse me Miss Know-It-All, but how can you _possibly_ know that _my_ formulae are _wrong,_ when this is my _own_ formulae, which I pretty much _invented_ for Nuclear Weapons which you, as a class, will be studying next semester.’ Lucy stares at me vacantly, but also is in my personal space, so I added this for maximum effect. ‘Also, as a Professor, you will find that I am _beyond_ qualified to teach this subject matter. I studied four Bachelor of Science subjects: _‘_ Mechanical Engineering’ _,_ ‘Electrical Engineering and Computer Science', 'Physics' and 'Nuclear Science and Engineering' at MIT. Of course this was too much workload, considering I was barely sleeping or eating, and so I dropped ‘Electrical Engineering’, and ‘Mechanical Engineering’ and set my main focus to getting a Degree, and ultimately a Masters, in both ‘Physics’ and ‘Nuclear Science and Engineering’. And then, if that wasn’t enough, I moved from MIT, after I graduated, with two Degrees and two Masters, to this University, where I am studying for my PhD in ‘Experimental Particle Physics, specializing in Nuclear Engineering’ whilst also simultaneously teaching you the same subject matter as I am accruing for my thesis, so that by the end of the first year, or in my educational field, my _fourth_ year of study, I will have obtained said PhD and will henceforth be known as _Doctor_ Holtzmann and not just _Professor_ Holtzmann. Oh… and I almost forgot, I also studied _‘_ Quantum Mechanics’ in my free time; which consisted of maybe one hour per day, per year. And, I also may or may not have sent in an application form to work for CERN in Sweden, on the conclusion of my PhD Doctorate. So, I ask you, _how_ can I _possibly_ be wrong about _anything_ for which I am teaching; oh, and not to mention, that I hold these qualifications and I’m _only three_ years older than you, so please, sit down, shut up, all of you get off Facebook and pay attention, because if you want to survive _Nuclear Engineering 101_ , then you had better start listening and better start making notes.’ She full on looks at me stunned, jaw dropped, makes weird strangled noises and sits back down, pulls her notebook out, a pink-feathered pen and switches her phone off. Aaaand, I didn’t even tell her that I have an IQ of 163! I’ll let her figure that out next week.” You laugh again, and Abby shakes her head in disbelief.

“Okay, wow, those qualifications are impressive. I have a Bachelor of Science and a Masters in Physics and I’m also working on my PhD! What a coincidence!”

“Not really a coincidence, when we’ve been assigned the same lab and we’re practically working on the same thesis with this book. What’s it called, again? Literal Ghosts?”

“No, that was a working title, which got scrapped after three days. The book is called _Ghosts from Our Past: Both Literally and Figuratively: A Study of the Paranormal._ ”

“Dear God, that’s a long title!”

“Ah, it might very well be, but it sums up our theories quite nicely.”

* * *

_Saturday 6 June, 2009_

_Dr J. Holtzmann’s dorm room_

_02:32_

You stumble into your room, arm around Abby’s shoulder for support. You had been to a student’s house party and had managed to get in by a) not being recognised by the drunken students, and b) showing your driving licenses, which showed your age.

You had played Beer Pong, danced around the living room all night, eaten an entire tube of Original Pringles “Salty Parabolas!” you kept yelling, which resulted in a resounding cheer from the students, and even done a keg stand, much to Abby’s horror. Both of you had participated in drinking games, and were now worse for wear. You giggle as you stumble and wander over to your twin bed, pulling your t-shirt over your head in the process. In your drunken stupor, you forget that Abby is also in the room, until you hear the door bang shut.

“Ohhh, shiiiit. Yeeeah, you’re here too. Oh, my bad.” You say, covering yourself with your t-shirt. You hiccup and grin. Turning on the bedside lamp, you blind yourself and cry out.

“You okay, darling?” Abby asks.

You blink slowly, trying to stop the triple heads spinning, trying to get them to mould back into one. Your vision blurs and you pull a confused face. Sitting down, and nearly missing the bed in the process, you wait until the spinning stops; it doesn’t. Your head begins to thump and you look to Abby for help.

“Water?” she asks.

“And headache pills.”

“On it.” She disappears off to find the shared bathroom and you undress, tossing your clothes on to the floor, but keeping on your boxers, socks and sports bra. Lying on top of the bed covers, with one foot on the carpet to ground yourself, you await Abby’s return.

After what seems like an hour (but was literally only five minutes) Abby returns, sits you up and gives you Paracetamol and water.

“Halfplease.” You slur.

“What?”

“Tabletsneedstobe… in half.” You struggle to say. Abby gets the gist and halves them.

Once you’re medicated and watered, you lie still, waiting for you to sober up. It eventually occurs and you sit up slowly.

“How’s your head?” you ask, touching her forehead.

“Well, I drank less than you, so…”

“Right, right, yeah.”

You lean in and kiss her; the first time in hours, and decide to take a chance with your tongue. You wiggle it forward, until it touches her lips, but she backs away.

“S-sorry, was that not what you wanted?”

“I’ve … uhh ... I’ve never kissed like that before?”

“Whaaat?”

“Yeah, no, my kisses are usually just what we’ve doing for the last 3 weeks.”

“Oh, my God, that’s a travesty. Well, look, I ain’t gonna do nothing…” you bristle “Urgh, double negatives! I’m not gonna do anything that you don’t wanna do, or that makes you feel uncomfortable.”

“Okay, that’s fine, thank you. But, the tongue thing, like what happens?”

“Awh bless, you really are a noob.”

“What’s a ‘noob’?”

“Ah, gamer term for ‘newbie’ usually spelled with one or both oh’s as zeros.”

“Okay, please don’t make fun.”

“Oh, God, no, I would never!” you whine. “So, the tongue thing… Uhm, basically my tongue goes in your mouth, kind of does a weird dance with yours; i.e. my tongue touches yours, and then you reciprocate and put your tongue in my mouth. Widely known as ‘making out’, ‘French kissing’, or some new terminology, which I picked up from some British students, which I find as much revolting as I do humorous, is the word ‘snogging’ or ‘to snog’.”

“Oh, so a little tonsil tennis?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, nothing too extraneous; unless you want it to be.”

“Okay, let’s try.”

“I’ll make the first move, so you know what to expect and what to do. And teeth – for God’s sake, _try_ not to clash teeth; it’s the worst experience ever!”

Kissing her gently again, you carefully push your tongue into her mouth and let it sit there for a minute, before sliding it over the top of hers. She giggles.

“I’m sorry, that felt really weird.”

You look dejected.

“Oh, God, no, not in a _bad_ way, but like, it’s a new thing, I’ve not done before. And I can’t believe that I _haven’t_ done that before. Okay, do it again.”

You repeat the same action at the same speed, and then pull your tongue back into your mouth. You wait for hers to encroach and you nod as she copies you. With sudden confidence, you feel her smile against your lips and you make out for a full two minutes.

Abby covers her mouth, pensively, with her one hand. “That, that wasn’t so bad.”

“See, I’m a good teacher.”

“Mmm, yeah you are.”

An hour of making out passes and it’s now way past three in the morning. You have the sudden urge to want to have sex with her, but try to resist it; you don’t want to push her too far in one day.

“When do you normally have sex with your girlfriend?” she asks, abruptly, making you choke on your own saliva.

You make a strange noise, which sounds a little bit like the _Grudge_ and grimace. “I would be lying if I told you I _did_ believe in the ‘Third Date Rule’ – have to go on three dates, which are usually spread over several weeks, before you get to the V. Buuut, I’m an as-and-when-the-other-person-feels-comfortable-and-ready kinda gal! I don’t pressure anyone; I hate that mentality, so …” you sigh “so _fucking toxic._ ” You snap.

“Oh, okay, no, I was just wonderin’. Like, if you wanted to tonight, we could, is what I mean.”

“No, not until you’re ready. You’ve just learnt how to kiss properly, for God’s sake!”

“Meh, that’s fair enough, but this can’t be easy for you. Tell me, exactly how long have you been wanting to sleep with me?”

You swallow. “Uhhhh…” you puff out your cheeks and force out the air. “Honestly or a fabrication?”

“Either, which—no, tell me the truth.”

You make bizarre non-verbal sounds. “Since we started actualising the theories in your book, about two years ago.”

“Jesus, Holtz, why didn’t you say?”

“Because I was trying to suss you out – you’re very hard to read, yano… my Gaydar was being very odd; you’re complex. And, because I didn’t want you to do something you weren’t comfortable doing.”

Abby sighs, licks her lips and chews her thumb. “Sleep with me.”

“I mean, this bed _really isn’t_ big enough for the two of us; it’s a kid’s bed for a start and I get a feeling of claustrophobia if I’m sharing and I’m next to the wall. I need to be on the open side to ‘breathe’ and to escape if I need to.”

“No, I mean, have sex with me, tonight. Now.”

“We’re drunk, and, and, and…”

“Yeah, no, no stupid idea, duh, Abby, what’re you thinking?!”

“Perhaps in the morning?” You enquire, suddenly tired.

* * *

Morning arrives, too bright, too loud and too over-stimulating. You have a hangover and you feel sick. Abby, who had ended up sleeping on the floor in a sleeping bag coughs and wakes herself up.

“Morning, beautiful lady.” She says sleepily.

You blush and smile. “Did you sleep okay?”

“Yeah, really well actually. Yourself?”

You grumble. “Mostly, but I have a really bad hangover.”

“Well, thank God it’s a Saturday.”

“Mmm, you bet.” She goes to kiss you, but you pull away. “Uh-uh, halitosis.”

“Ooh, nasty. I’ve got morning breath too; forgot to clean my teeth last night.”

“Yeah, we both did…” you cock your head to one side. “Oh, well if we both have the same issue, it’ll be fine. Like when two people eat onions or garlic if they’re gonna be kissing… or mints, mints are better.”

“You’re such a nerd.”

“Yes, but I’m your nerd.” You get on top of her in the sleeping bag, pinning her down, and planting kisses all over her face and neck, which works her up.

“Oh, oh God… Cream and sugar… That feels nice, Holtz. Wow, uh, okay, yeah…”

You teasingly nibble her earlobe and kiss just behind it, on the bone. She whimpers at the contact and you recognise the shortness of breath, which is the same in every girl you ever kissed on their ‘turn on spot’ behind the ear.

Abby unzips the sleeping bag, complaining that she’s hot, but you know that’s just her feeling turned on, and probably wanting a bit of action. “Whatever you’re doing, stop for a minute; let me get out of this thing.”

You oblige and watch her wriggle free, before launching the sleeping bag to the other side of your small dorm room. She nods and you continue kissing her.

“Stop, stop, stop, Holtz.” She breathes heavily and you take a seat on the edge of your bed. The silence draws out, but you don’t probe. She inhales deeply, and then exhales loudly. “Okay, yup, I’m ready.”

“Are you sure? Don’t just be saying that, for my sake.”

She sits up on her knees and puts a hand flat on your breastbone to make out with you again. Her right hand fumbles around pathetically at your left breast, but you give her the benefit of the doubt that this is probably the first girl she has felt up. She shakes her head. “I’m not doing that right am I?”

You shake your head in reply. “Don’t force it, do whatever comes naturally. You’re too stiff, too rigid, too _worried._ Just go with the flow. Just _don’t_ give me a purple nurple.”

She looks confused, shakes her head again, shrugs and cups your breast again.

“Clear your mind, Abby. Let the feelings take over. Shut your brain off to thinking and just let it flow, like chi, through your body.” You instinctively reach out and gently massage hers, so she gets some sort of idea as to what you like. (You’ll save the light nipple play for a later date.)

With the awkward fumbling out of the way, you focus on your foreplay, making her feel good and pleasured enough to start having sex with her. You, as is your common practice, straddle her, so that you’re on top (as a naturally dominant person, being a ‘top’ or an ‘alpha’ is much more pleasing to you than being a submissive, ‘bottom’ or ‘beta’) and begin placing kisses on her breasts through her top. She sits up and pulls it off and over her head and you get an eyeful of her gloriously huge breasts. (Yours seem non-existent in comparison!) You grin devilishly and lie her back down again, before kissing both breasts in quick succession.

One thing you refuse to do, the first time you sleep with a girl, is to go down on them; you had a nasty experience in your late teens, where you did just that to a girl, who gave you gonorrhoea as she had had unprotected sex with a male three days prior and decided not to tell you. You had only gone after one of your classmates had suggested getting tested for an STI. You originally rejected the idea claiming that ‘hard lesbians can’t carry or transmit STIs when we only use our fingers’, but then concluded that not everyone was a full lesbian and that some girls were bisexual, or just experimenting and so you got yourself checked out and had the devastating news. Thankfully, three tablets and a large needle injected into your buttock got rid of any signs of gonorrhoea and you’ve had a clean bill of health since.

You only go down on a girl once you know that they are also fully clean and aren’t riddled with herpes, chlamydia or the like. You doubt Abby has any, but you’d rather be safe than sorry, and so, you set to work with your fingers; starting with the middle finger, on your right hand (your dominant hand) as always.

You cautiously find her quite-wet vagina and gently rub the flesh, to not cause alarm, and to also allow her the chance to settle and get used to the feeling of someone else, other than herself, touching her. You stop, to check she is comfortable and she nods, giving you the all-clear to proceed. Slowly working your way up, you attend to her clitoris and she lets out a gasp. From your own masturbatory exercises, this is a good thing, but not knowing how she likes it, you’re startled, and stop once again.

“Why did you stop again?”

“I wanted to make sure that was okay.”

She nods and you continue having sex.

Abby starts talking to you during the session, telling you what she likes, and what she doesn’t and this helps you greatly. You spend more time on her clit than inside her and soon, like all the girls before, her back is arching and her breathing is shallow.

Unfortunately for you, this is the first time Abby has ever had sex, with anyone, and so, the big orgasm you were hoping for, was underwhelming and inconsequential, with only a little cum. You try not to think about it, but now you’re worried that your performance was lacking and you sit on your bed in a grump.

“What’s the matter, babe?” Abby asks, putting her underpants back on.

“I did bad.” You say in a small voice.

“No, you didn’t. Oh, my God, that was so good. I just, I have to tell you something.”

“What did I do wrong?”

“No, not you, me. I, erm, well, I’ve never had sex before.”

“Oh, thank God. Well, not thank God that you’ve not had sex before, but thank God that I didn’t fuck up. For a minute, I thought I was a bit rusty, and was gonna have to start rethinking my strategies!”

“No, you were totally fine, just I’m sorry that whatever you thought was gonna happen, didn’t.”

“I just thought that, yano, with you arching your back it was gonna be a big orgasm and lots of cum, and well… yeah.” You look at her glumly.

“I’m sorry, I should have said, but I was afraid to, because I didn’t want you to think I was a freak for not doing it before now.”

“No, I would never.” You sing-song. “Oh, sweetie.” You shake your head and kiss her. “Okay, so how was your very first experience?”

“Well, as I have zilch to compare it to, pretty good.”

“Well, that’s what I do best. Virgin or otherwise.”

Abby grins. “Well, I’m no longer a virgin, you got that covered, so now I’m assuming it just gets better?”

“Well, if I actually go _in_ then yeah… that was just the tip of the iceberg. Although, not every girl likes it inside… preference and all.”

“Well, when I masturbate I sometimes go in, sooo…”

“Ah, well, more fun for me then!” you pause, formulating a question in your mind and conjuring up different ways to execute it. You settle on the former. “Tell me, is your hymen broken?”

Abby furrows her brow. “I wouldn’t have a clue, to be honest.”

“Hmm, could be, could not be. I shall find out another day.”

Abby gets dressed, whilst you jump in the shower, returning, fully naked to find Abby looking worriedly at her phone.

“What’s up?” you ask, coming over to see if you can help.

“We’ve got to get back to the lab, now. Someone tried to break in last night.”

“Shit, fuck, balls!” You exclaim, throwing on last night’s clothes, whilst still a little damp. You run around like a headless chicken trying to locate your own phone and keys to your room as well as your wallet and/or any loose change.

Once you’ve gathered your things, from various places about the dorm, you throw on a pair of odd socks, slip on your old Nike sneakers, throw your hair up in a messy bun, and usher Abby out the door. As soon as she’s clear of the frame, you slam it behind you and lock it, before the pair of you take off running down the corridor.

You ignore the looks of amusement, and some looks of shock, as you and Abby leave your bedroom together, but you mostly couldn’t care less for what the students think. Right now, your top priority is getting across the Quad in the shortest time possible and into your lab to see if anything has been stolen.

You’re not so fussed about the Windows 98 PC holed up in one corner; you’re more concerned about your brand-new Sony VaioFW480J/T laptop, worth around $1,199 sat in the immediate area. Surrounding your laptop are various odds and ends, such as batteries, wires, wire cutters, the strange machine, which you can’t remember buying, and blueprints for a Geiger counter; which could potentially be disastrous in the wrong hands – aka any students with little knowledge of radiation, dosimetry or nuclear devices.

Although Geiger-Müller counters have been around since 1908, your blueprints are for a handheld model, with a black-and-white digital readout display which alerts the operator to the level of ionising radiation present. You’re hoping this patented device will be bought out by some high-end nuclear firm, and you get all the credit and a few thousand dollars, but without the funds to make the device (or to fall back on should it be rejected), you’re sure that this will just remain one of your projects that will eventually end up in a drawer, never to be used.

Racing across the Quad, you take a shortcut over a grassed area and vault over the back of a bench, nearly catching your foot on the top. Abby rolls her eyes and runs along the path.

“Come on, James Bond, we haven’t got the time for parkour, we need to get there pronto.”

Your heart pounds in your chest and you get a stitch in your ribs, but you continue sprinting, weaving in and out of students, ambling leisurely along the path in the warm summer sunshine. You burst through the double doors in the Science Department and catch the one with your foot, balancing on the other, waiting for Abby to arrive; she had stopped to tie her shoelace.

You pound down the corridor, sneakers squeaking on the floor, until you reach the end where you notice police officers and ‘Do Not Cross’ tape across your open door. “No, no, no, no, no! Oh, my God! What the hell?!” you cry, mouth agape, skidding to a halt, right outside the laboratory. Abby joins you, red faced and out of puff. You clutch your side, gather your breath and speak to the officer present.

“What’s with the police tape?” you ask, afraid of the answer.

“Someone broke in here last night, stole two laptops, some wire cutters, bolt cutters, three pairs of Chemistry goggles, a pair of latex gloves and blueprints for a Geiger counter.” The male police officer said, gesturing inside the lab.

“And they made off with some potent chemicals.” A female police officer adds.

“Fuck, fuck. Oh fuck me. Shit, ohhh…” you bang the palm of your head against your forehead three times, before punching the wall. It immediately stings, but you ignore the pain. “Oh, I’m gonna get fired. Shit, shit, fucking shit. Abby, what the fuck am I gonna do?”

“There’s nothing you can do, Holtz.”

“But I’m sure I locked the door, and checked the handle four times… Oh, my God, what if I _didn’t_ lock the door?”

The female officer clears her throat, and points to the broken lock. “Forced entry, ma’am, so you definitely locked it.”

“Oh, thank God for that. I’m still gonna be fired.”

“Why?” Abby asks. “Holtzmann, calm yourself.”

“No, no, no, I can’t. They stole the blueprints for the Geiger counter.”

“Yes, and? The most they will do is make it and sell it.”

“ _My_ Geiger counter, Abby. _My_ blueprints; they stole _my_ idea.” You whine, looking on the verge of tears. “And the chemicals.”

“Did you not lock them up?”

“Well, in the lab, yeah?” you say, pitch higher than usual.

“Do you have a receipt for those chemicals? I just want to make sure they weren’t acquired illegally.”

You sigh. “Officer, I am a Physics Professor, specialising in Experimental Particle Physics and Nuclear Engineering, do you _honestly_ think that there are any illegal back-hand dodgy dealings in a reputable University?”

“Just doing my job, ma’am.”

You sigh again. “I know you are. Let me look for the documents and the receipts.”

“Oh, you can’t go in there. We’ve cordoned it off.”

“ _Yes.”_ You say, sounding exasperated. “ _But_ if you want those documents, I have to look in my filing cabinet, which is _in my office._ ” You say, bordering on sarcastic. Abby squeezes your hand (incidentally the one you punched the wall with) and you wince.

“Fine, go look in your office. We’ll be here.”

“Well, I’m not expecting you to go for a _walk_ … wha-what good will that do? You _obviously_ need to stay here, so you can see the proof of purchase, _as requested,_ so, yeah, I would _think_ that you _would_ be staying put.” You roll your eyes and Abby gives you a look which says: _‘You’re getting a little cocky and your attitude might get you arrested for non-co-operative behaviour.’_ You look between her and the police and apologise. “Sorry, sorry, that was really sarcastic and rude. I’m just annoyed that someone’s broken in and stolen my things. That’s never happened before, and I’ve been at this Uni, first as a student, and now a Professor and none of this has ever happened before.”

“Do you know anyone who might have a grudge against you?”

“I’m one of the more likable professors, and one of the most likable people you’ll ever meet. I mean, yes, I do piss a lot of people off with my bubbly, always-on-the-go and loud personality, but that won’t ever change due to my Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder. I mean, if they think that’s reason enough to dislike me, then that’s their lookout, cos I’m _fuuun_! But, surely being hyper doesn’t mean that I’m worth being stolen from. I mean, c’maaan … Would _you_ steal from me because of the way I am?” You say, barely pausing for breath.

“I’m not a criminal.” The male officer responds.

“ _If_ you were; put yourself in the mind-set of one.”

“The only reason why I would steal something of value is to sell it on. It would have no bearing on the person from whom I stole, just that it was an object, or in this case, _objects_ , plural, of medium to high value, that I could fetch a steep price for. _That_ would be the _only_ reason why I would steal, but as I said, I’m not a criminal, so I wouldn’t steal anything.”

You sigh, knowing full well that a meeting with the Dean would soon follow and this is something you dread ever having to do.

Within the hour the police have seen multiple receipts, taken statements from yourself and Abby, contacted campus security, watched CCTV footage of the break in and rounded up all of the Physics students, in all years, into one of the largest lectures halls, to see if they saw any suspicious activity last night. Several students provided statements, but all that was said was that it was a student, around 5’7, wearing all-black black attire, a Jason Voorhees mask, wielding a flathead screwdriver (the device used to break the lock, alarmingly) and carrying a large mountaineering backpack.

The police, having gathered all this information asked to see if anyone owned a Jason mask and mountaineering backpack and four male students raised their hand, so they began to interview them separately. Then they had the arduous task of speaking to the Dean, to detain these suspects, until further evidence could be provided. Of course, the University was less than happy, but deduced that it was the only way they can catch the thief and see if the items could be returned (less than likely, but still an option presented nonetheless.) It was a gruelling four day process and eventually they found the student, who wasn’t even studying Science, arrested him and returned both the miscellaneous items and the laptop. Sadly, the blueprints had been burnt, just to piss you off further, and the reason behind the attack was never discovered. He confessed to his crimes, but refused to give a motive. Thankfully you hadn’t been fired and the Dean just put it down to an ‘unfortunate twist of events, which probably couldn’t have been prevented.’

* * *

Sitting at one of the IKEA chairs in the staff room, you place your boots on the desk and start tapping your index finger to your thumb, staring vacantly at the coffee machine with a ‘BROKEN. DO NOT USE’ sign on it. “You know I could probably fix that.” You say, absentmindedly.

“Holtzmann, you should probably just let Facilities Management come and fix it.” The Maths professor announces.

“You mean, in another two months?” you say, still staring at it. “It’s been broken for three months, and apparently it isn’t top priority. Has he seen some of the students we have to teach?! Coffee is a lifeline. I could probably fix it in less than an hour.”

“Using propane, butane or anything else would not be a sensible idea. And don’t even think about using nitrous oxide to make the coffee pour faster!” he jibes, chewing a pen as he reads over some papers.

“Who says I would use chemicals? I’m not a Chemist. That’s Professor Alberta’s job!”

“You’re a Nuclear Engineer, though?”

“Do you even know _which_ chemicals are used for Nuclear Engineering? Not Propane or Butane. I’m more Radon, Plutonium, Uranium, Hydrochloric Acid, and Petroleum, basically anything that can, and probably _will_ explode.”

“And those gases do…”

“Again, not a Chemist… Also, I am an Engineer; not just of Nuclear, but general Engineering. I’m fixing the coffee machine.”

As much as the other faculty members protest, you’re off your chair, unplugging and pulling apart the coffee machine, like a rocket. As you’re getting down to the inner workings of the machine, the campus handyman arrives, toolbox in hand. You don’t realise until he taps you on the shoulder.

“I’m doing that, move out of the way.” He elbows you to one side, and you sit, haphazardly, on your chair, eyes narrowed, pen cap between your teeth.

Abby comes in and sits down opposite you, and begins highlighting large chunks of text in ‘ _Ghosts from Our Past’._ You ignore her, until she reaches out to grab your hand to draw your attention. Having not uttered a word about your relationship, you’re shocked when Professor Alberta, who is also sat at the large table, announces that he knew you two would hook up and is “proud that you’re now an item.”

You snap your attention to him and look him directly in the eye. Several other tutors look at you both, questioningly and then slowly start offering congratulations and praise.

Ms Bethel looks at you and claps enthusiastically. “Oh, thank goodness you decided to solidify your feelings towards each other and become one. The stars have aligned and smile down upon you.” She is an odd sort, even more than you and she begins humming and chanting in Latin.

You look between Ms Bethel and Abby and start to get weirded out by her behaviour, so you decide that it is probably time for you to leave and head to the library. You get up, smile awkwardly at your peers and vanish before Ms Bethel can recite a poem. Abby hurries after you and takes your hand as you walk down the virtually empty corridor. The students you pass grin at you both and some offer you a high five, which you reluctantly accept.

On route to the library, you have a sudden change of heart and steer Abby to a secluded spot behind the Arts Centre, deep in the trees to make out with her under the leafy canopy. You back her into a Sycamore tree and tongue her passionately. Without any forewarning, Abby’s cardigan is on the floor and her shirt is being unbuttoned. You look both startled and pleased and shrug before kissing her skin. You look around to make sure no students are about, and continue kissing her. As you do so, she unbuttons and unzips her jeans and grabs your right hand. She pushes it inside the waistband of her underpants and begins guiding you to her clitoris. You get the hint and continue pleasuring her yourself. She moans and buries her head between your neck and shoulder, trying to keep her noises to a minimum.

Your hand is restricted as her jeans are still pulled up, so you withdraw your hand and get her to pull them to her knees. She does so and her underwear follows. Again you check the coast is clear and you rub her vagina as you continue playing tonsil tennis. She gets wet quite quickly and you cautiously insert a finger inside, keeping an eye on her face to see if it changes to that of pain. She asks for two and you do as you’re told.

You get to work and notice that her hymen hasn’t been broken, and so you thrust a little harder to break it; you feel it against your fingers and notice the vaginal cavity has expanded. She whimpers and moans, but tells you that she’s okay and to carry on at that pressure. You oblige and nibble her earlobe whispering into it. _“Okay, so now I’ve officially taken your virginity Professor Yates, as I just broke your hymen. You’re welcome, don’t need to congratulate me, but it should feel better now.”_

Her knees get weak and she slides a little way down the tree, knees bent, pushing all her weight into the tree trunk. You giggle at this, but continue to finger her until she grabs the shoulder of your shirt with the one hand and bites the material on the other side to stop her being loud. The pulling of the shirt begins to strangle you, but you push on trying to get her to climax. She releases the hand hold on your t-shirt as she reaches climax and moans, which is muffled by your t-shirt. She cums a lot and nearly falls down completely, but grabs your waist hard to stop herself.

You remove your fingers, before sucking them seductively and winking at her as she flushes pink and sets about re-dressing herself. You clear your throat, before you begin. “Was that better than the first time?”

She blows air through her lips and nods, lost for words. “We definitely need to do that more often. And it was quite exciting to do it outside, a bit of a rush in case we got caught.”

“I kept hearing twigs snapping, so my heart is racing, but I didn’t want to leave you hanging. Let’s actually go to the library now where we can work on that book of yours.”

She nods and brushes leaves off her cardigan, before putting it on and taking your left hand, guiding you back to the path set between lavender and poppies.


	46. Chapter 44

**_Present Day -_ ** **_Tuesday 16 August, 2022_ **

**_Holtzmann and Erin’s Apartment_ **

**_07:30am_ **

****

You draw your story to a conclusion, not wanting to recreate (and subsequently overshare) your entire six month relationship with Abby, and wait for someone else to speak. When no one does, you offer to make everyone a hot drink. During your storytelling, you hadn’t noticed that Erin had woken Jane up, got her washed, dressed and fed and was in the process of driving her to the nursery.

Nobody has moved from their positions in the lounge and Patty stares at you, dumbfounded, whilst Abby remains a deep shade of red. She is mainly surprised at _how_ much detail you can remember, but also is embarrassed that you _can_ remember so many details. She feels that the majority of what you decided to tell probably should have stayed between just the two of you, but she makes no motion of telling you otherwise, and so lets it slide.

On your return you hand a black coffee with sugar to Abby and a cappuccino from a sachet to Patty, before bounding over to pick up your hot chocolate.

“Yo, I might need something stronger, like Absinthe!” Patty adds, sipping at her piping coffee. “I’m surprised that you remembered so much information, and also _disturbed_ by the fact that you remember all that. Also, yeah, man, I’m with Abby – having all those qualifications is nuts! I can’t believe you studied so much!”

“I’m a self-professed nerd; a polymath. I can’t help it. I try to learn as much as I can, and Quantum Mechanics fascinated the fuck out of me.”

“Dude, when did you start swearing more?”

“Second year of teaching fuckwits; and annoying privileged white heterosexuals who thought they were better than me for getting in on scholarship and for being in ‘normal’ straight relationships and that my relationship with Abby was invalid because ‘gays can’t have sex when they don’t have a penis, so it’s straight foreplay’; completely disregarding the fact that gay men _do_ have penises and _still_ have sex. When I started dealing with that for about a week, I lost my temper the one day, and I recall this, verbatim: ‘Any of you students who live toxic lives thinking that heterosexuality is the American ideal and that homosexuals should not exist, please raise your hand…’ and literally, six students raised their hands, and so, and this is the best bit, I said to them: ‘As your professor, I am entitled to be just as judgemental, and discriminatory and could actually, in theory, fail each and every one of you, simply because I feel like it and because you’re homophobic, but I won’t do that, because I’m not a sadist, so instead, hear these words: I am a lesbian, not that I actually need to justify my sexuality for you; I’m a genius, and I am probably smarter than the six of you _combined_ ; I will not deal with discrimination in _my_ lab, in this University… so if you have a problem with that, then you can _fuck_ off, because I’m me, you’re you and nobody tells _you_ who to love, so why the hell do you think you have the _right_ to tell _me_ who to love?’ I actually got a small applause for that, and, having never heard me swear before, they were stunned. Soon shut them up and I actually had an apology off three of them!” You laugh and drink your hot chocolate, before realising, for the first time, that Erin isn’t present. “Oh. Where did Erin go?”

“To take your daughter to nursery.” Abby says, sipping her coffee absentmindedly.

“Oh, I hadn’t even noticed she was gone.”

“You were so wrapped up in retelling our story, dude.” Abby says, catching your eye.

“Sorry, too far?”

“Yes, a little…” she begins “No, actually a lot of what you said really should have remained between the two of us. Like the fact that I was a virgin; that’s humiliating to tell.”

“I’m sorry; I thought that was common knowledge by this point.”

“No, Holtz, I’d pretty much kept that a secret from _most_ people.”

“Well, now Patty knows… Was Erin still here then?”

“Nah man, she’d left. And don’t worry Abs, I won’t tell a soul. Your secret is safe with me.” Patty raises an eyebrow in your direction.

You poke out your tongue and drink some more chocolate. “When did I take my meds?”

Abby looks at her watch. “Two hours ago, got another four before the next one.”

“Okay, cool.” You chuckle uncomfortably, avoiding eye contact. You zone out and stare at a random spot on the wall. The door opens and Erin returns, wet from the rain.

“Is she alright?” Erin asks, hanging up her waterproof coat.

“Yup, she’s just zoned out.”

“Yeah, she does that. How was the story?”

“Excruciatingly painful and Holtz recounted every single minor detail of how she and I hooked up.”

“Wonderful. Bet that was a trip down memory lane!”

“Indeed it was.” Abby says, sounding uncomfortable.

Five minutes later you’re still staring at the wall, but at least you finished your hot chocolate before it went cold. “I have things to do.” You say, your voice drifting, and sounding almost disconnected in your own head.

“Where are you going?”

“Back to the lab, I need to conduct some experiments.”

“Honey, you need sleep. You’ve been staring at the wall for five minutes, and there’s only two occasions where you zone out, barely blink and sound monotone, and that’s when you’re over-tired, or you’ve not taken your medication… oh, and when you’re tense, so three occasions.”

“I’m fine. Sleep is for the weak.”

“Jillian! You are not, under _any_ circumstances, returning to your old routine of sleeping for 14 minutes a day. It isn’t good for you mentally, physically, or emotionally and I’m surprised that you didn’t get ill.”

“Oh, I was ill, for about a week straight; had really bad flu the first time I cut my hours from 8 to 4 hours, then down to 14 minutes. It was a personal social experiment conducted in 2004, during my time at MIT and it pretty much lasted two decades.”

“Jesus, that’s real bad.” Patty says, looking shocked.

“Holtzmann, go to sleep!” Erin orders, referring back to your previous name so that you know she is serious.

“But I’m not tired.” You whinge.

“Now!” she replies, sternly.

You’re broken out of your trance and you nod at her repeatedly before dragging yourself to the kitchen, and then to the bedroom, realising, now that you’re actually moving, just how tired you are and that sleep is probably a great idea.

* * *

Sleep doesn’t come easy for you; you’re tossing and turning; too hot the one minute, too cold the next. Finally you settle with one leg and one arm out of the duvet, the other limbs, tucked under. You lie still, waiting for sleep to wash over you, but you get up with a frustrated sigh and head back into the living room in just your boxers and a tank top. You look glum as you’re attacked by the sunlight pouring through the windows. You see Erin, and make your way over to her, arms outstretched, wanting a hug. You pout as she rolls her eyes at you, but you’re grateful for the cuddle.

“I can’t get settled.” You grumble. “I’m too hot and then I’m too cold. Am I ill?”

She checks your forehead; normal temperature. “No, you’re not burning up, you’re fine.”

“Come put me to bed.” You say, tugging at her wrist, trying to drag her off the sofa. In this moment, you look like a small child, trying to get your mother to tuck you in. Your eyes are large, and your bottom lip is poked out. You look upset, and exhausted.

“As long as you go straight to sleep; c’mon then, let’s get you to bed. See you in a minute, girls.” She takes you by the hand and guides you to the bedroom, where, once inside, you collapse onto the bed.

Erin tucks you in, kisses your head and rolls her eyes again. “You’re like Jane. I suppose you want a bedtime story?”

“No, just spoon me until I fall asleep.”

“Alright.” She gets in on the right side of the bed – her spot – and drapes her arms over you, pulling you tight to her body. You feel the warmth of her skin, and, interlacing your fingers with hers, you kiss the back of her hand before closing your eyes.

You mumble incoherently as you drift off and soon, you’re fast asleep; true to what they say that one falls asleep quicker when lying next to someone they love.

Erin stays there for a few minutes, until she knows that you’re really asleep, then untangles her fingers and limbs and scoots off the bed. She leaves you sleeping peacefully and rejoins the others.


	47. Chapter 45

You begin screaming and the girls peg it from the living room, leaving the TV on. Patty flings open the door with such force, that it leaves a dent in the wall. You’re thrashing about in the bed, looking as if you’re having a seizure and Erin has half a mind to ring the Emergency Services.

“NO, NO! GET DOWN! ABBY, GRENADE! PATTY, CHIP IT! NO, NO! THAT’S MY WIFE. GET OFF!” You start roaring with anger and continue thrashing about in the bed, before screaming Erin’s name, in one long syllable. “ERIIIIIIIIN!!! HELP ME! DON’T JUST STAND THERE, HELP ME!”

You lash about, and jerk so violently that you wake yourself up in a fright, pouring with sweat. You sit upright, panting and take a moment to realise your colleagues are in the room with you. Erin jumps on the bed and pulls you into a tight hug, supporting your head between her breast and arm. She rocks you gently as you begin to sob into her chest; embarrassed that they saw that and upset because of whatever happened in the nightmare.

“What happened, baby girl?” Patty asks, looking frightened, before carefully sitting on the bed.

Your breathing is laboured and you’re still crying, unable to think, unable to process the question. You wipe your nose with the heel of your hand and when you speak, your voice is hoarse. “We’re on an operation, getting our asses handed to us by a Class VII, when it all starts to go wrong. The ghost starts launching debris at us, so I’m trying to protect you all, but then I tell Abby to use the grenades on it, and Patty, you’re told to use the chipper…”

“Yeah, we got that bit, what happened to Erin?”

You look terrified, as you search for the words. “She gets picked up, which of course enrages me and then she’s tossed like a rag doll and knocked out and I can’t do anything about it … My feet won’t move; I’m stuck in one spot and I need you to help me, but you’re too busy trying to trap the ghost, so I get mad that you’re not helping me to help Erin … and then I wake up ...”

“Have you had this dream before, baby girl?” Patty asks, looking worried.

“This is the second time I’ve had it; I hope it’s not a foreshadowing. That would _really_ fuck me up.”

“Well, I’m here, I’m safe and sound. Nothing’s hurt me, but I’m concerned about you.” Erin says, cupping your face in her hands and using her thumbs to wipe away your tears.

“Please don’t tell me this is like PTSD or something. Abs?”

“If it happens repeatedly every night, then it’s a possibility. How frequent are the nightmares?”

“The last one was when Erin jumped into the portal after you; really messed with my head, because the real life events were all distorted and the portal wasn’t even there – also Rowan was a Class VII and in the dream, it was _clearly_ a Class V.”

“Okay, so at least it’s not been a recurring dream for the last 7 years.”

“No, thankfully not. And thankfully, I don’t relive my car crash or that time I was kidnapped and imprisoned; cos then, I would have to say I was suffering from PTSD. I don’t get nightmares, thank the Lord. It’s just unfortunate that it’s happened again.”

“Is this why you spend most nights working upstairs?” Erin asks.

“I don’t sleep very well, or I wake up frequently.”

“Insomnia?” Abby asks.

“No, I’ve been checked for that six times. I just wake up when I think of something and have to go and do it. My ADHD meds are actually helping my brain to switch off, focus and to sleep for longer.”

“I did notice longer hours asleep when you were taking them.”

“I am taking them.”

“I know, so hopefully the sleeping will regulate into a normal routine and you have a proper wake-sleep cycle, like us human beings.” She chuckles and the corners of your mouth twitch.

“Uh, hey, dude, I may have dented your wall, opening the door.” Patty says, suddenly remembering how forcefully she entered the room.

You sigh. “It’s fine. I expect that from myself, or Jane, who’s the spitting image of me in terms of behaviour, so don’t worry your pretty little head about it.” You kiss the back of her hand. “I’m not gonna go back to sleep. I’m gonna shower and then we can get to the lab. It’s gotta be lunch time, right?”

“10am.” Erin concludes.

“You’re kidding me?!”

“No, you were only out for an hour and a half.”

“Fuuuck. Alright, but make sure I nap this afternoon.”

“I’ll hold you to that if you protest, baby.” Erin says, kissing your forehead. “Urgh, you’re all sweaty.”

“Hence the need for a shower. Ladies.” Abby and Patty depart, leaving you and Erin alone. “Join me?”

“Yeah, alright, but no funny business.”

“Would I ever?”

“Yes, you would, Jillian.”

“Spoilsport.”

“We have company.”

“So?”

“The answer’s no, now get in, otherwise I’m rescinding my invitation.”

“You can’t rescind it when I invited you.”

“Then I’m disinclined to acquiesce to your request.”

“Alright then, Barbossa.” You kiss her cheek and strut to the bathroom, peeling off your damp clothing as you go.

She picks them up, dumps them in the laundry basket and strips off, before joining you under the warm stream.

As you stand there, your skin pink from the water, and hers so lightly tanned, but beginning to turn pink, your mind wanders and you begin to think of new ways to please your woman. You marvel at her body – her breasts, her curves, her arms, her thighs, her buttocks; everything and you revel in the thought of shower sex. Your fingers lightly caress her skin, and you begin idly stroking her forearms, sending tingles up her spine. Your thigh is between her legs and you press into her, feeling her breasts on yours. You know that you can’t have sex with her right now, but you can still make her want it and still kiss her, right?

She knows what you’re doing and gently shakes her head, before leaning down the extra two inches of height, to kiss you on the lips. Her hands are in your hair and your arms around her waist, and you’re still skin-on-skin. Both flushed from the heat of the water, and from the arousal caused by the other person, you bury your head into her neck and breathe in; you like the smell of her skin, especially when her perfume lingers a little, like today.

For the first time, you’re not in the mood for shower sex; just to stand there holding onto her for dear life, letting the stress wash away into the drain. You wash yourself, almost forgetting your matted hair from writhing in the bed and sweating profusely. You reach for the bottle of shampoo, but discover that it has gone, as you turn around, Erin spins you to the other side of the cubicle, so you’re out of the water and begins to shampoo your head, giving a little head massage in the process. You moan softly and let her wash your hair.

* * *

You step out into the cooler bedroom and shiver; why must you always forget to take your towel in? Erin giggles at your erect nipples before asking for a towel for herself – apparently she also forgot to hook hers on the back of the door. You grab two body towels and your head towels before dumping hers on the toilet lid and throwing your bright orange towel around you and wrapping your hair into the head towel, securing it with the button at the back.

She takes a little longer than usual to leave the bathroom and you wonder what she’s doing. You push open the door, carefully in case she’s behind it, and stare at her – scissors in hand, tongue poked out looking into the wiped-over mirror.

“What the –?” you begin.

“I have a grey hair.”

“Ooh, let’s have a look.” You say, sounding a little too excited. You percolate her space and find the strand which she is referring to. “Yup, that’s definitely grey. Shame.” You say, pulling it from her head.

“Ow! What the hell?”

“There, now it’s gone. Put the scissors down and let’s never speak of that again.”

“That hurt, Jillian.”

“Well at least it’s gone.” You leave the bathroom and rummage around your drawers. Pulling out your pink flamingo boxers, you toss them onto your bed, before opening your sock drawer and finding they have all been colour-coordinated and paired up.

“Nooo, my soooocks. Whhhy?”

“Because I couldn’t stand to look at them all thrown in there.”

“But I like my sock drawer.”

“None of them are paired, and you wear odd socks.”

“Does it mess with your OCD?” You ask mockingly.

“It does. It’s okay if they’re dark colours, but when you wear your neon ones at odd colours, it really messes with my head.”

You make a whining noise and find your Virgo star sign ones which she bought for you last year. You unpair them, throw one on the bed, and find your _Saturday_ socks, just to fuck with her.

“No, no, absolutely not. You can’t wear _Saturday_ socks on a Tuesday.”

You poke her tongue out at her. “Fiiine.” You rummage around again, for a pair of heather grey ones, which reads: ‘FUCK OFF!’ on the bottom (last year’s birthday present from Patty; she bought a three pack which says ‘FUCK OFF!’, ‘BASTARD!’ and ‘IF YOU’RE READING THIS, GET ME A BEER!’ – This had made you giggle incessantly for ten minutes, whilst Erin just rolled her eyes and didn’t say much.)

You throw your odd socks and boxers on, and still half naked, search for a sports bra; settling on your neon blue one, you throw that on and find something to wear.

“It’s laundry day today, by the way. I’ve noticed you’ve not done any for a week.”

“That’s fine.”

“That’s gross.”

You ignore her comment and wander to the large IKEA wardrobe (of course most of your furniture is from IKEA – “ _Practical lesbian furniture, which is easy to assemble, and looks stylish and unique.”_ you had said the first time you were decking out your apartment with your closeted gay brother.)

Flinging the doors open you blankly stare at your options – shirts, waistcoats, t-shirts, leggings, your paint-splattered overalls on one side and Erin’s jeans, dresses and skirts on the other. You blow air through your lips, so it sounds almost like a raspberry and hum. “ _What to wear? What to wear_?” you sing to yourself. You grab a bunch of clothes at once and dump them – still on their hangers – onto the bed.

Sifting through them, you discard some clothes onto the floor, before settling on a selection. You don your high-waisted brown flared trousers, a grey and white striped long sleeve blouse, grey wool waistcoat, diamond printed tie (which you hang loosely around your neck) and leather jacket.

You hang the rest up in the wardrobe, shut the doors and stare at yourself in the mirror, pouting at yourself and giving yourself a wink. As your trousers begin to slip down, you realise you’re missing your belt and search the room for it. As you’re searching for your leg-and-wheel belt buckle (which given its size, is hard to miss) your trousers keep slipping down.

“You’ve lost weight.” Erin chimes.

“No… what?”

“Those trousers used to stay up on your hips, and now they’re falling down.”

“I’m missing my belt…” you protest.

“Which one?”

“The brown leather one, with the large silver belt buckle. The one with the leg and the wheel.” You reply; you can’t remember where it came from, all you know is it’s one of your favourites and you’ve had it for years.

Erin helps you look, still swaddled in a towel.

“This it?” she asks, holding up the exact belt you described.

“Yeah, that’s it.” You approach her, take it from her hand, kiss her and begin looping it through your belt loops along the waistband.

Erin quickly towel-dries herself and gets dressed into some rather lacy red Victoria Secret knickers, with matching bra and leaves you staring, mouth agape, as she wanders over to the wardrobe. She’s feeling casual today and grabs a pair of her boot-cut jeans, her white-and-pink _GRL PWR_ t-shirt and your light-grey full-zip MIT hoodie.

She rummages around in her own, neat, sock drawer and finds a matching pair of black ankle socks, with red ringlets around the tops and red toes and heels. She ties her shoulder-length red hair into a high ponytail and puts on her small rectangular watch before closing your mouth, which is still wide open.

“When did you go to Victoria Secret?”

“Before the wedding, if you remember? I just haven’t felt sexy in a while.”

“But you are sexy. You’re my sexy; you’re …” you pause, searching for a delightful word. “You’re _smexy_.”

“I’m what?”

“Smexy, yeah, just made it up – smart-sexy.”

“Oh, well, thank you, and you’re smexy too.” She kisses you and leaves the bedroom to find Abby and Patty eating some cereal and watching a children’s TV show.

“Is that ‘SpongeBob Squarepants’?” she asks, disbelievingly.

“Yeah, man. Squidward is tryna get a Krabby Patty, but SpongeBob ain’t playin’.” Patty says, not taking her eyes off the screen.

She chows down her cereal as you enter, having spent the last five minutes attacking your hair – the bobby pins refused to stay put, but you eventually managed to work them into your hair; it’s messy, curly, volumised and out of your face – just the way you like it. You’re just attaching your _Citizen EcoDrive Chronograph WR100_ watch to your wrist, adjusting the pin into the third eyelet of the green strap, when you hear the familiar cackle of SpongeBob. You dash to the sofa, and land roughly next to Patty, almost sitting on her lap and spilling the Cornflakes.

“Hey, man! Watch it! Almost spilled the cereal.”

“Sorry, man.” The three of you zone out and Erin takes a photograph of you all staring intently at the screen.

“ _I’ve got four children to look after today; yippee_!” She mutters, sarcasm laying her voice.

Three back-to-back episodes later, you start grumbling that you’re hungry, so Erin whips you all up some ham sandwiches, with cocktail sausages and cheese cubes on cocktail sticks, before she starts dicing pineapples to put on the top of the cheese stick. She arrives, momentarily blocking your view, ignoring the chorus of “Woah!” which is said in unison. She hands each of you a little buffet plate and goes to sit at the Island Counter, alone.

On the plate is an extravagant little spread – sandwiches (cut into squares for you and triangles for the others) cheese-and-pineapple sticks, cocktail sausages, mini pork pies, mini scotch eggs and original flavour Pringles. You look at it, with all the joy of a child at a birthday party and shout a “thank you” over your shoulder before tucking into the food. “Baaaabe?” you coo, after two bites of the first square.

“Yeah, what’s up?”

“Come join us.”

“I’m okay just at the minute; I don’t want to watch kids’ TV.”

“We have a kid, it will be on, you _will_ be watching. Hey, and don’t say you haven’t, I caught you watching ‘Sesame Street’ the other day!”

“I wasn’t – it was on, I sat down for a minute, whilst Jane was watching it.”

“Babe, she was colouring, you were transfixed. Come, sit, eat, enjoy.”

“Alright, fine. May I remind us that we are all adults here?”

“No you may not.” You object. She sighs and comes to sit next to you.

“May I also remind you that we’ve done zero work today, and it’s a Tuesday and we’ve got so many things we are in need of doing? Abby and I need to re-do our _Yates-Gilbert Equation_ , focus on collecting a little more data, from the PKE meter. I mean, it laid tracks for the paratechnological advances that we have built up over the last 7 years, but I feel like we could enhance them more.”

“No, no, definitely not! I gave you a proper mapped-out digital readout display and a blinky LED light; what more do you need?” You protest, looking her, for the first time, in the eye.

“To do something constructive. Let’s go to the lab, work for a few hours, I’ll disappear and pick up Jane at 3pm, take her to my parents and come back to the lab to continue whatever it is I’ve started.”

“Alright, I have been meaning to tinker with the Mark III Packs.”

“Oh, Christ. _Tinker_ in your vocabulary never sounds good.” Abby says, taking her paper plate to the waste-bin, having demolished her food.

“Amen! Yeah, I’m with Abby on that one. You and tinkering don’t go to well. I mean, hell, you do a pretty sweet job at fixing our stuff, but almost every time, something is set on fire.”

“That’s not true.”

“Honey, you’ve set fire to more things in the Firehouse than any domestic fire in the last several years.”

“That’s patently untrue, Patty. Take it back!”

“It’s true and you know it. You’ve also blown some shit up.”

“Well, that’s true.”

“Have you seen our call-out bill?” Abby says sternly.

“Call-out, for whom?”

“Having to stop the fire brigade from kicking down the door and putting out the fires. Also, I’m pretty sure that they have actually put out four fires in the lab.”

“Okay, those weren’t my fault.”

“And whose fault were they, Jillian?” Abby asks, folding her arms across her chest.

“ALRIGHT FINE! I SET THE FUCKING LAB ON FIRE!” You yell, before furrowing your brow and looking apologetic. “I think it’s time for my meds.” You look at your watch; half an hour late. You stomp off to locate them and come back with three pills in hand – two antidepressants and one Adderall.

“Uh, uh, uh, uh, uh, no. _One_ of each, sweetpea.” Erin says, noticing the three. She takes one of the antidepressants and pockets it. You scowl at her, but take the tablets with some squash. Poking out your tongue and then lifting it up to prove they’ve gone, you apologise for shouting and disappear to clean your teeth in your en suite and find your red driving gloves. You come back, squeaking the leather palms together as you wriggle your fingers through the finger holes. You link your fingers together, rotate your hands, so the backs are facing you and push until your knuckles crack.

“Right, lez go!” You say, clapping and bounding towards the door, picking up your multi-coloured backpack, excitement coursing through your veins. Abby and Patty begrudgingly drag themselves away from the TV, whereupon Erin switches it off and grabs her handbag. Shoes are put on and you open the door, gesturing into the hallway with an outstretched arm. “Lez go lesbians.” You say, trying to push them out the door, ignoring the looks given to you by Abby and Patty.

You close and lock the door, before unlocking it and running in, dropping your keys in the process. “I FORGOT TO FEED THE CHINS!” You yell behind you.

“I FED THEM WHILST YOU WERE SLEEPING!” Erin shouts form the hallway.

“OH, OKAY. THANK YOOOU!” You run back out again. Locking the door a second time, you jiggle the door handle four times, counting out loud, before the four of you pile into the elevator.

As it reaches the ground floor, you belch loudly, as the doors open and Erin mumbles _“Lovely”_ under her breath. You step outside into the warm autumnal air and saunter over to your designated parkinG-Spot, to a rather dirty-looking Ectomobile. Patty draws a smiley face in the side panel and climbs in the back. You breathe on the ghost emblem and polish it up with your sleeve – the leather squeaking at the contact – and then clamber into the driver’s seat, checking yourself out in the mirror first, before adjusting it, and the wing mirrors for your usage. You push the seat backwards a little – Abby having used it recently, had pulled the seat forwards so she can reach the pedals – and wriggle in your seat trying to get comfortable.

Once the seatbelts are on, you throw the car into reverse and slowly back out of your spot. The carpark is mostly empty and yet you still take care to avoid anything. Once past the gates you press a button on the back of the sun visor and they close again. The remote was one of the few items which you had managed to salvage from the wreckage of Ecto-1A; and somehow the equipment on the roof rack and made it unscathed and more importantly, not blown up. You had to negotiate with the Mayor to have them back, but eventually he gave them back to you, despite the protests from Agents Rourke and Hawkins of Homeland Security. You turn on the digital radio you had installed a while ago (instead of the analogue one which had required a passenger to manually scan the channels) and press the _pre-set 1_ button. It picks up WNYU on 89.1 FM just as a song comes to the end.

_“Alright, so today is the Throwback Tunes. The hottest tunes around from the 80s through to early 2000s – we’ve got everything from Wham! to Bananarama to Madonna. We’ve got Alanis Morissette, Michael Jackson, JLo, Bon Jovi, Queen and more; including some of Britain’s finest pop tunes, covering a range of artists, including Backstreet Boys, Take That, Atomic Kitten and Spice Girls! If you want a request, simply call 212-555-1660 and let us know what you want to hear. We’ve got you covered for the next four hours, so stay tuned!”_

“Ooh, ooh, let’s ring in, let’s ring in!” You say, bouncing up and down in your seat. “Erin, dial the number, girls pick a song. We need a badass tune to take us to the lab. Go, go, go! Thinking caps on!” You bounce up and down again and Erin holds your steering wheel.

“Ey! Bon Jovi ‘Livin’ On A Prayer’?” Patty offers.

“’Bohemian Rhapsody’ Queen?” Abby suggests.

“Meh, too long.”

“Er-bear?” A name you haven’t used in so long.

“Justin Timberlake, ‘Sexy Back’?”

“Man, your song game is _weak_.” You say, before humming and drumming your fingers on the wheel. _Cruel Summer_ starts playing in your pocket and Erin fumbles around trying to locate it. “Left side, left side.” She leans over, brushing your breasts with her arm and you get a tingling sensation between your thighs. You breathe in sharply through your nose and try to ignore it. She finds the phone and answers, oddly professionally.

“Holtzmann’s phone. Uh-huh, yes… Oh, hi Wendy. Uhm, yeah sure we can swing by; just a little detour on our way to work, uh-huh. Oh, interesting. Yup, yup, I’ll tell her. Okay, goodbye.” She hangs up and puts the phone in the door pocket.

You grumble and wind in your neck, so your shoulders are hunched. “What now?”

“Wendy’s up for an award and wants you to be in attendance.”

“An award? What for?”

“Uhm, I believe it was the ‘George Goodman Brudney and the Ruth P. Brudney Social Work Award’.”

“Well fuck me in the nostril. That’s great news! I think that’s like the tenth time she’s won an award, but yeah, we’ll be there.”

“Yo, she got an award 10 times?” Patty chirps from the backseat.

“Yeah, man. She’s been my Mental Health doctor since I was a kid and managed to help hundreds of kids, and then thousands of teenagers and thousands of adults, with all sorts of Mental Health issues. She’s literally the best. She’s had the awards presented by Mental Health America. She’s had minor awards like ‘Advocate of the Year’, but this is the first time she’s won the Social Work Award. Aw man, I’m stoked!”

“Now we _definitely_ need a badass tune!” Abby inputs. She starts to type in the number of the station, but forgets it.

_“Don’t forget the number to call is: 212-555-1660 for all your song requests.”_

“Oh, as if on cue.” She adds.

“Ooh, I got it! ‘Paradise City’, Guns N’ Roses!” Patty yells, making you jump and swerve erratically in the road, causing another car to honk its horn.

 _“Hi caller, go ahead.”_ The sprightly female voice says on the radio.

“Hello, can you please play ‘Rockstar’ by Nickelback?” Abby says, speaking into the phone and reverberating out the car’s speakers.

 _“Hi, absolutely! What a great song!”_ The song starts playing. _“Thanks for calling!”_

“Thank you for these throwbacks.” Abby says. “See ya.” She hangs up and you whack the radio up to full volume. Pressing the button on the electric window (another one of your additions), you blast the streets of New York City with Chad Kroeger’s vocals, and the four of you decide to shout along:

“WELL, WE ALL JUST WANNA BE BIG ROCKSTARS AND LIVE IN HILLTOP HOUSES, DRIVIN’ FIFTEEN CARS. THE GIRLS COME EASY AND THE DRUGS COME CHEAP, WE’LL ALL STAY SKINNY ‘CAUSE WE JUST WON’T EAT. AND WE’LL HANG OUT IN THE COOLEST BARS, IN THE VIP WITH THE MOVIE STARS. EVERY GOOD GOLD DIGGER’S GONNA WIND UP THERE, EVERY PLAYBOY BUNNY WITH HER BLEACH BLONDE HAIR. AND WELL, HEY, HEY I WANNA BE A ROCKSTAR. HEY, HEY I WANNA BE A ROCKSTAR!!”

You all wind up in a fit of giggles, and the song carries on, but you’re too busy laughing hard to notice and soon you’re pulling into the street where Wendy’s office is located, so you turn the song down again just as ‘Mr. Jones’ by Counting Crows filters in through the speakers. “How apt! Her name is Doctor Jones and this is ‘Mr. Jones’; brilliant coincidence.” You say wiping laughter tears from under your eyes. You switch off the engine and the song cuts off. You throw off your seatbelt; do a quick scan of the surrounding area, launch open your door and slam it shut, all the while whistling ‘Rockstar’.

The others shut the doors a little more carefully than you and check that they’re clicked into place before you lock the car manually and pocket the key. Erin notices your phone is still in the door, so you toss her the keys (as there’s a key hole in her door too) and she unlocks it, grabs it out, shuts the door and locks it again. She hands you the keys and you swing the keyring around your index finger.

You press the buzzer at the intercom and a grumpy female answers: “Whaddaya want?!”

“Hi Bethan, it’s Jillian. Doctor Jones said she wanted to see me? I’m with my mates though, is that cool?”

“Jillian? Jillian, Jillian, Jillian … Nope, name doesn’t ring a…”

“Holtzmann?” You say, sounding weary.

“Ohhh, Holtzmann!” she says, perking up a little. “Yeah, I’ll buzz you all in now. I see ya.”

The intercom buzzes and you push open the door into a grey walled, tiled floor reception area. You nod at the guard, scribble your signature into the book and head up the three steps to the elevator. The others sign their names, Erin has her bag checked and you all crowd around the rather small looking elevator. The elevator is indeed rather small and you find yourself squished into Erin; not that you’re complaining. You stand on your tippy toes and give her a quick mouth kiss, before standing flat again. She gently squeezes your bum and you smirk into your shoes. Abby _tsks_ at you as your cheeks turn a little pink.

The ride up is silent and as the doors open sluggishly, you begin to get impatient. You force them and yourself out into the brightly lit corridor and squint. “Argh, blinding!” you exclaim. “Where’s Doug? Doug? DOUG?!” You shout, looking around for the maintenance man. He appears at a side door wiping dirt from his hands.

“What’s up Jen?”

“Jill.”

“Jill, sorry. What’s up girlfriend?”

“Doug, no.”

“Sorry. I know I’m not cool.”

“You’re 60; you’re trying too hard, my man.” You clap him on the shoulder. “Ey, uh, any chance we could turn these lights down for us? I forgot my glasses and they’re giving me a headache. And, mate, this is a Mental Health office and Wendy deals with a lot of Autistic patients, like myself, and you don’t want anyone to have a sensory overload, do ya?”

“No, ma’am, I do not. These is new bulbs, m’love. Can’t do anything about ‘em.”

You breathe air through your clenched teeth. “Stick the emergency lights on.”

“But there’s no emergency.”

“Look, mate, if you chuck the emerg lights on, yeah, I’ll hook ya up with Ms Rosenpopa down the road, yeah? Yano, the one that owns the flower shop? You like her, don’tcha?”

“Yeah, yeah, I do. You’d do that for me?”

You nod, enthusiastically; short head movements. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, no worries, my man.”

“Hey, when are you gonna turn 21?”

“Soon, mate, soon.”

“What about that beer?”

“Uhhh, well strictly entre nous, I don’t think that’s suitable, mate? Yano, I’m a young adult, and you’re like … well, yeah, and I’m a patient and you’re like staff, sooo…”

“Have you got a missus yet?”

“Yeah, I told you that last time, remember?”

“Her name’s Erin. She’s here…” You lower your voice. _“I’ll explain later, just go with it.”_ You steer her towards Doug and he holds out a hand for shaking.

“Hi, pleased to meet you, I’m Erin.”

“And what’s a nice girl like you doing with a ruffian like Jen, ey?”

“Oh, well, I like ruffians. She’s a good egg.”

“She’s a mechanic, don’tcha know?”

“An engineer?”

“Nah, no, a mechanic. She fixed me car the other day. Right, well, I’ll put the emergency lights on.”

“Hey Dougy, Doug, Doug.”

“Yes, Jen?”

Your right eye twitches. “You owe me ten bucks.”

“Why?”

“Remember, when I said to ya, if I get a girl before Christmas, you owe me ten dollars, cos you bet I wouldn’t be able to get one before Christmas, on account of my ‘rough-and-tumble’ personality, and the fact that I dress like a teenager.”

“But you’re not dressed like one today. You look 19 today.”

“Aww, you’re sweet. Okay, make it $5 for the compliment.”

“Okay, yeah, I can… Now where’d I put my wallet? Ah! Here it is. Right, you are. A five dollar note, just for you, my duck. Now, go and see Wendy and say congrats on her award.”

“Oh, she’s won an award?” you say, sarcasm lacing your words. “I didn’t know that, I was coming for my ‘Grown Up’ pills; the ones that mature my brain.”

“Don’t take too many of them, will ya! You’ll become like me!”

“What, I’ll be 60 overnight?”

“Hardy-har! No, you’ll become forgetful.”

“But you’re not _that_ forgetful, Dougy.”

“I know, Jen, I know, but make sure you behave yourself. Look after your friends and your girlfriend and make sure you clean that car of yours. It won’t run otherwise.”

“Ah, will do. She needs a good scrub.”

“But don’t use them machines, girl! It’ll scratch the paint off. Use a sponge and some warm soapy water.”

“Alright, thanks for the advice, Doug.”

“You’re welcome, Jill. And come back to me when you’re 21!”

“I will do. Cheerio.”

You bound into Wendy’s waiting room, followed by the others and wait until the door bangs shut, before reclining on a leather sofa and sighing.

“Uhm, what in the sweet hell was that all about?” Patty asks, sitting in an armchair.

“He does it every time. Thinks I’m a 20 year old, called Jen, who is a bit of a rough rapscallion, who wants to be set up with the lady at the flower shop. I’ve tried, for two years. I mean, bless him. I just go with it. I don’t _think_ he has Alzheimer’s, but there’s definitely something ‘off’ about him; something not quite right up in his noggin!” You say, poking out your tongue and blowing air from your puffed out cheeks.

A wooden door opens and a tall, blonde Gillian Anderson-esque figure in a crisp, white Christian Dior suit floats into the waiting room. She spots you and comes over to shake your hand, before settling for one of your squeezing hugs.

“Jillian. How nice to see you again. How is the medication treating you?”

“Hi, yeah, yeah, yeah, fine. Fine.” You staccato nod and smile sheepishly.

The woman turns to Erin and raises an eyebrow. “Ms Gilbert, has Jillian been taking her medication?”

“Yes, she has been. I’ve been making sure of it. She has had 2 today, but I made sure they were 6 hours apart as instructed.”

“Excellent. Now, who do we have here?” she asks, in a lilted manner.

“Hi, Doctor Abigail Yates, Physicist.” Abby offers the lady a hand.

“Pleasure to meet you, Doctor.”

“Hi, I’m Patty. I used to work at the MTA. I’m a bit of a Municipal Expert and I read a lot of non-fiction. Sadly, not as impressive as these three.” She also shakes the lady’s hand.

“So, Jillian, I called you in today as I’m getting an award and as one on my on-going patients, I wanted you to be here when the TV crews arrive.”

“Wait, what now?” You say, with eyes wide.

“It can help drum up my business.”

You open and close your mouth, searching for the right words. “Wendy, babes, just…” you form an ‘o’ shape with your mouth and blow air through it. “Chill a little, okay? It might be good for _your_ publicity, but not for our business. As exterminators of the paranormal, we need to be seen as being, how do I put this, _mentally stable_ , and having myself as one of your patients, probably being interviewed, does not paint a good picture of us, or me in particular, and enough people think I’m mad and erratic as it is, so I don’t want to be giving them any more fuel for the fire, in case they stop ringing us, and well, we need the money, sooo…”

“I’ll make sure you’re not on the TV.”

“ _Reeeeally_ missing the point here, Wendy, but yeah, sure, you’re in charge. I mean, I’m the nutcase, right? I’m the mad scientist who probably makes Frankenstein creatures in her basement at night, yano that sort of thing?” you say, eyes still wide, chuckling as you speak.

“Jillian, how many times do I have to tell you that you’re not a ‘nutcase’?”

“Yeah, no, I _know_ that, I’m not schizophrenic or manic or whatever, but I’m, how should I put this…” you make silly noises, trying to find the appropriate words. “Nooo, that’s not… I wouldn’t say… would that? Hmm… No, no… I wouldn’t… Cha-ll-en-ged. That will do. Challenged. Mentally challenged. I’m definitely not doing myself any favours here.” You rub your mouth with your right hand, slowly lick your lips, and bite your bottom lip.

“Jillian, might I remind you that a lot of the greats were Autistic? Albert Einstein, Isaac Newton, Thomas Jefferson, Michelangelo di Ludovico, Charles Darwin, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, to name just 6. It is one of the most complex and controversial neurological disorders, because each person with it is different. It is not a learning difficulty, per se, but there is a lack of social skills, which is needed to function in society. I’ve had plenty of cases, where social interaction is subpar, and I’ve had cases, where the social interaction is good, not great, but good. Your social skills have actually come on leaps and bounds since I first met with you, over 2 decades ago, and I have to say, you are one of my favourite people to deal with. Remind me, and I know this is your favourite thing to brag about. Remind me, what’s your IQ?”

“163.”

“And what classification on the Intelligence Quota are you?”

“Genius.”

“And how does one measure the IQ classifications?”

You clear your throat, preparing to launch into an explanation. “Okay, so Lewis Terman, born in 1916, first developed the original notion of IQ and proposed a scale for classifying IQ scores. I shall start with the lowest. The lowest score is under 70, which means a person is, and I quote ‘Definite Feeble-Mindedness’, which is as dumb as a box of rocks, above that is 70 – 79, which is called ‘Borderline Deficiency’, 80 – 89 puts you at ‘Dullness’, 90 – 109 is ‘Normal or Average Intelligence’, 110 – 119 is ‘Superior Intelligence’, 120 – 140, which you can see is quite a large grouping, that is ‘Very Superior Intelligence’ and right, at the very top, where I _proudly_ sit, is the over 140, which is ‘Genius or Near Genius’. Some classifications systems go into more depth, but this was the original IQ class system. It’s also interesting to note that there are what’s know, now bear in mind this was in 1916 and now it’s non-PC to say this, but there’s a low IQ and mental retardation list as well. This goes: 50 – 70 ‘Mild Mental Retardation’, 35 – 50 ‘ Moderate Mental Retardation’, 20 – 35 ‘Severe Mental Retardation’ and an IQ of less than 20 is classed as ‘Profound Mental Retardation’, which is a nice nibbet of about 1% of the population, of I _think_ , I hope, the United States of America.”

“That’s impressive.” Patty comments.

“That’s what I do – store useless information. Oh, oh, ooh, this, this is the fun stuff!”

“Wait, there’s more?” she adds.

You bounce up and down on the spot, having remembered more. “Okay, so, going to the tippy top end of the scale. Okay, so, ahem, 115 – 124 is classed as ‘Above Average’, which are usually your university students, then we have 125 – 134, which are your gifted individuals, such as post-grad students, following that, we have the 135 – 144 IQs, which are ‘Highly Gifted’ and this are you intellectuals, then you’ve got 5 categories of genius.” You pause. “Keeping up? Right, so we’ve next got IQs of 145 – 154 which are your ‘Genius’ professors, right, so that means Doctors Yates, Gilbert and technically me; if I was a standard professor. Then we have the IQs of 155 – 164, helllooo… which is meee, cos 163, so we’re at the Nobel Prize winners now, so that’s the juicy schmooshy category, right, so I _should_ be getting Nobel Prizes, for my gear, but no one’s come knocking on my door. I mean, hello, I’ve invented Proton Packs, Proton Grenades, Proton Pistols, Ghost Traps, A Super Slammer Muon Trap… ah, I’m getting side-tracked… uhh, where was I? Oh, yeah! So Nobel Prize winners, then above that are the ones with 165 – 179 which are your ‘High Genius’ people, then 180 – 200 are ‘Highest Genius’ and beyond that is over 200, which are your ‘Unmeasurable Geniuses’, which is, probably also like 1% of people. Second only to that is this nugget: Einstein was considered to _only_ have an IQ of about 160.” You laugh heartily and snort. “So, I’m smarter than Einstein, hahahaha, that’s hilarious. OhmyGod; woo!” you wipe away imaginary tears and slap your thigh. “Okay, so yeah, he had an IQ of 160…” Wendy gives you a look which means ‘that topic has died now’ and you cease discussing it further.

“So, as you are very much aware, you are a genius, and I believe that those with Autism see the world differently, are much more in tune to what’s around them and can live very profound and happy lives. Well, those that aren’t severely affected, which is a more unfortunate state of affairs as they may have communication and mobility issues, but irrespective of that, I am here to help everyone. And I mean _everyone_.”

Erin begins to tell Wendy of your nightmare as you sit down and zone out.

“Hmm, I see. Well, I understand a great deal about psychology, so there is a possibility about what it all means.”

“Is it speculation at this point?”

“Oh, no, far from it. From what you’ve described to me, it is clear that Jillian has an aversion to hurting the ones she loves; I mean, we all do, but I think it is more to it than that. You mentioned a ‘wife’?”

You cough loudly and the others stare at you. “What?! No…” you begin your uncomfortable gay laugher as you speak. “I didn’t say anything about a wife… I don’t know what you’re…”

“Jillian, I’ve known since you were 10.”

“Wait, what now?”

“Don’t you remember coming in for monthly visits with your mother?”

“Nooo.” you say pointedly, trying to avoid the question.

“Yes, you came in once a month with your mother, and you were covered in bruises, but she said you had been fighting with your brothers; whom I also treated over the years, and she somehow blamed you being homosexual because of your Autism; well, your Asperger’s. And evidently they don’t coincide. I tried to tell her, many a time, but she flat out refused to acknowledge that a neurological disorder does not create, enhance, or change one’s sexual orientation. Also, you would often turn up in shorts and an oversized t-shirt, which was clearly one of your brothers’ and sneakers. You were a rambunctious tyke and did a lot of damage to my office; $100,000 worth of damage. You got so angry once that you ripped the radiator off the wall – how you managed that is beyond me, and chucked it out the window.”

“Heh. I remember that. Pretty funny; although not at the time. My Mom was trying to get me into dresses and she was trying to hook me up with this lad called Brett – why are all the yucky ones called ‘Brett’?” you pull a disgusted face. “And she was blaming me for shit my brothers had done and I lost my cool.”

“You lost your cool more than once, Jillian.”

“Did I?” you say, almost whispering.

“You had turned into a bit of a pyromaniac at 12. Your mother dragged you in, literally by your ear, dumped you in the chair and started ranting about a Nuclear Reactor in the shed and how you were gonna ‘kill us all’.”

“So I did one teensy tiny grown up experiment when I was a kid. Big whoop!”

“Holtz.” Erin hisses, mock-punching your thigh.

“Okay, yeah, alright, sorry, bad, bad Holtz, I, er, I shouldn’t have done it. Okay, I’m sorry, but I was a bored kid. The most affection that was offered to me, by anyone, was three punches to the ribs by Daniel, daily, a fist fight with Sebastian, Robert and Daniel, every Wednesday, and two black eyes from Alex. Ethan is the only one who has ever given me a hug, and that was at our wedding.”

“Jesus, what an abusive family.” Patty says, shaking her head.

“It was there way of toughening me up. I enjoyed the fights, actually, and moreover, I instigated them half the time.” You grin like an idiot.

“Man, you’ve got problems.”

“Ya think?” You reply, sarcastically.

“Not like that, man, but actually wanting to fight your brothers.”

“Eh, made me tough. I took no shit at home, except from my Mom, cos what you gonna do when that’s your Mother?”

“True. Have you even got into a fight as an adult?”

“Once. I decked a paparazzi for spouting shit about one of Rob’s cases; Rob, the, the lawyer. I mean, does getting my ass kicked in Attica count?”

“No, sweetie, it really doesn’t.”

“Attica?” Wendy interrupts. “As in the Correctional Facility?”

“Maybe…” you mutter.

“Tell me, Jillian, why were you arrested.”

“Kidnapped. And I don’t want to go into it, it’s traumatic. I’m surprised, but also grateful, that I don’t have PTSD from that or from my car crash…” you imitate an explosion.

“You didn’t tell me about your car crash?”

“Because it’s not something I want to bring up. Do you _want_ me to start jibbering nonsense and start waking up in sweats?! I have Asperger’s, ADHD, social anxiety for new situations, which is linked to my Asperger’s, I don’t have Anxiety, and I’ve got Depression. Do you _want_ to kill me, Wendy, baby?”

“Actually, more accurately, you have mild Depression and borderline Anxiety. Your Asperger’s is mild and your ADHD is moderate. And no, I don’t want you to relive any past experiences, traumatic or otherwise, I just wondered why it wasn’t something we had discussed.”

“Because I was AWOL after my accident and I, I, I, I, don…” you start to panic, your mind harking back to that day where someone slammed into the side of you; you never found of who. “I need some air!” you snap. Getting up, you push your chair back abruptly with the backs of your knees, and it crashes to the floor. You leave it there, clutching the left side of your head, dry heaving and run out the door into the dimly lit corridor.

“Well that’s not good.” Patty concludes. Erin runs out after you.


	48. Chapter 46

Erin finds you slumped against the wall near the shadows, pale, sweaty and breathing heavily into the space between your knees. She sits herself next to you and places a hand upon your knee. It reminds her of the time you’re in the alleyway by your favourite restaurant and she rests her head against the wall, avoiding eye contact.

“That’s why I didn’t want to bring it up. She makes me bring stuff up and I don’t like it. I don’t want to remember it. I don’t want to think about how I almost died in the car, how I almost died in prison. I don’t want to remember you nearly dying in the subway, which I know I joked about, but that was to hide me feelings for you. I don’t want to remember you and Abby nearly dying to close Rowan’s portal. They hurt my head and my heart. My head is thumping at the site where I smashed it on the glass – it’s one of those phantom feelings, and I don’t like it. I like kicking ghost butt, but when I have to remember certain events, it makes me sick – physically and emotionally.” Without warning you lean over to your left and upchuck onto the tiles. Erin grimaces as the smell wafts into her nostrils. You vomit two more times and lean your head against the wall.

“I’m sorry she brought that up, babe, I really am. Should we get you a new doctor if that’s what she does all the time?”

“No, she’s been in my life for years – you heard her, over 2 decades. I can’t just up and leave her now. Also, don’t tell anyone, but my Mother gets the bills. As long as I’m still attending therapy and getting my medication, she doesn’t care. If I stop, she’ll start questioning it. The only good constant she has provided.”

“Well, I suppose that’s good. New topic: How’s your Dad doing?”

“He’s with Alexander. They’re getting along like a house on fire, which concerns me, but he isn’t interfering with our lives, so it’s no skin off my nose. And man, my sick stinks. I should go and find Doug.” You grimace and frown, your nose twitching with the way your face muscles are screwed up.

“I’ll go find him, you stay here. Can we put the lights back up?”

“I suppose so. I wanna make sure I didn’t get myself, with splashback or otherwise.”

“That, that’s gross. You’re a gross human being.”

“You married me.”

“True, I did, because you’re my precious angel. And now, I have two precious angels.”

“When do we need to pick up Jane?”

“In an hour; I’ll take her to Mom and Dad’s.”

“Okay, shall we see you back at the lab? I don’t wanna hang around here for much longer. No offence, but I’m not being a puppet for the MHA awards.”

“I don’t blame you. Uh, does she know we have a daughter?”

“Not yet. I hadn’t got around to telling her.”

“F-for three years?”

“Don’t get on my back about it, please.”

“I’m not, baby.” Erin says, kissing the top of your head before getting up and leaving you sitting next to your vomit to go and find Doug and a mop and bucket.

“Err, what’s that smell?” Patty announces loudly.

“Pee-yew.” Abby adds, through her pinched nose.

“Sorry, I puked.” You say ashamed.

“You alright, man?”

“Yeah, I’m good. Erin’s gone to fine a mop.”

“Ey, between me an’ you, your doc is more nuts than you are and I don’t wanna stick around.” Patty says, keeping three feet from you.

“Yeah, I agree. Let’s vamoose before she corners us.”

Erin returns sans cleaning utensils and sighs. “I can’t find anything. It’s too dark now.”

“Ah, fuck it. Let’s skedaddle.” You announce hoisting yourself to your feet.

“But what about splashback?”

“Too much info, guys.” Patty protests. “There’s a bathroom down the bottom of this corridor. Marcus, Anne and Shonda used to coke up in there after session.”

“And you know this because?”

“I’ve been offered, and declined, six times over the last 20 years.”

“Jesus, that’s bad, but good for you.” Erin chimes.

“I aim to please, my good lady.” You say, skirting around the puddle and dashing off to the toilets, shoes squeaking on the linoleum flooring.

“Heh ha!” you exclaim on your return. “Fucking missed myself di’n’t I?” You poke out your tongue, illuminated momentarily by the bathroom light and then you’re back in semi-darkness. You skip off towards the elevator as Doug rounds the corner.

“Ya off now chicken?”

“Yeah, yeah, someone tried to break into the garage, and steal the vintage Caddy. Gotta split; see ya, man.”

“Someone tried to jack the Cadillac?”

“Yeah, man, yano how it is. Kids, man, they play dirty.”

“Oh, kids like yourself?”

“Ey! I’m not a thief.”

“No, no, I just meant age, di’n’t mean nuthin’ by it.”

“Yeaaah, you better not have. Alright, well, cheerio.”

“Ooh, where?”

“In your cleaning cupboard, left ya some; okay, bye.”

You slip into the elevator with the others and make some guttural snorting noise as the doors slide shut. “ _IQ seems to below average with that one_.” You mutter to yourself.

* * *

You step out into drizzle and are greeted by a tow-truck and two male workers currently hooking the front bumper to the hydraulic arm of the truck, ready to lift it.

“Aaarrgghh!!” you exclaim. “NO! STOP! Ey, yey, yey, yey, yey!” you lower your voice to a more reasonable volume as you approach. “Oi, whaddaya think you’re doin’?!”

“Towing this car, ma’am. What’s it look like?” A tall black man, with close-cropped hair and dirty overalls replies.

“Can’t you read?” the second tow-truck man says. He points to a sign which reads: _No Parking At Any Time._

“Okay, l-l-l-look. Look, how much will it be for you to _not_ tow the car?”

“You can’t bribe us.” The black man says.

You open your mouth and bite down, your top teeth _clacking_ onto your bottom teeth. “Okay, but can _you_ read?”

“Obviously, that’s why we’re towing it.”

“Sure, sure, sure, but what does _this_ say?” You frantically point to a sticker on the back which reads: ‘ALWAYS ON DUTY KEEP BACK’

“So, that means nothing. You can get those stickers on eBay!” the second man, an overweight balding white guy, in equally dirty overalls laughs.

You fumble around in your pocket and produce your wallet, which incidentally has your Ghostbusters ID in it, so you don’t lose it. “There, what does that say?”

The white man reads it and hands it to his colleague. “Seems legit.”

The black man reads it aloud: “Ghostbusters. Jillian Holtzmann. Certified eliminator 14 July 2016. Licensed to carry out paranormal investigations. Oh, and it’s issued by the State of New York.”

“Meaning Mayor Bradley. You wanna ring him and tell him you’re trying to tow the Ghostbusters’ vehicle?”

“No, no, we-we’ll put it down. Jim, lower it.”

“Urgh, fine, Steven. Lower ‘er down.” He hits the green button and the hydraulic arm begins to lower the Ecto safely to the ground.

“Thank you. Now, bye-bye, have a good day and, also, there’s a Rover down the road who has been parked on double-yellow lines for 2 hours.”

A grin spreads over the workers’ faces. They unhook the front of your car, sort themselves out and drive off to locate the Rover.

“Crisis averted.” You say, triumphantly, fist pumping the air. Getting in the car, you belt up, pump up the volume on your ‘80s Hits’ CD and wait for the others to get in and belt up. They seem to take a while and you begin revving the engine impatiently. “I am piqued, guys, hurry up. With Abby in the front and Patty in the back, you wait for Erin to reach for the handle before accelerating a little, then breaking. She tilts her head; walks forward to where you’ve stopped and tries again. You accelerate again and giggle to yourself, before coming over all serious and addressing her out of the open window. “Erin, get in. Erin, we have to go. This is not funny. We are late! Erin!” You finally stop and allow her to get into the car. Waiting until the door is shut, you exclaim: “Oh, we have fun.” And then you _whoop_ loudly. Accelerating down the road, to the synthpop progressive chords of ‘West End Girls – 2001 Remaster’ by Pet Shop Boys, you shoulder bop and signal to merge to turn right.

* * *

Squealing to a halt outside your headquarters, you check your watch. You made it from Cambridge Place in Brooklyn to the Hook & Ladder Company 8 Firehouse, Manhattan in fifteen minutes. You cackle like a maniac and check the faces of your passengers – fear-stricken. For any other driver with a sense of self-preservation, awareness of danger and consciousness of the speed limits, it should have taken at least thirty minutes; an hour in heavy traffic.

You, on the other hand, decided to abuse your power of the siren (again) and floored it between green lights. You had swerved in and out of the traffic; bouncing the car on its suspension and making your passengers grab hold of the ceiling handles and the dashboard in terror.

Ignoring the 40mph speed limit of Manhattan Bridge, and the 50mph limit of New York City’s streets, you floored it over the bridge at 60mph and zip through the speed camera at 65mph. As you approached a red light, you kept your foot firmly on the accelerator, having checked left and right for oncoming traffic, in less than five seconds, and zoomed past a speed camera. You saw it flash, but pulled a self-satisfied look.

Giggling to yourself, you ignored the look of horror on Erin’s face from the back seat, even though she screeched your name as you blasted through the red light. You know full well that there won’t be a trace of your number plate on the speed camera because you’ve sprayed it with a clear coating spray which reflects the numbers when a flash is applied. It helps you to stay inconspicuous and allows you to get to paranormal investigations in a timely manner without being stopped by the police for breaking the speed limit.

“We are here! Everybody out!” You order. You throw off your belt, jump out of the car and slam the door shut; a really bad habit of yours. Stretching your back, you moan satisfactorily and open the main fire engine doors, before reversing the car into the space. You note that the main doors need a fresh coat of red paint, and make a mental note to tackle it at some point.

No less than two minutes after you exit the car, the first one to do so, your jaw drops at the sight in front of you. “Kevin?! KEVIN!!” You yell, bounding up to him and giving him a choking hug. “Where the hell have you been, man?”

“Hide N’ Seek.”

“Bro, you were gone for days! We sent out a search party and got the police involved.”

“Oh, yeah, yeah, Dani told me.” He replies calmly.

The others get out of the car and start to talk amongst themselves.

“Kevin?!” Erin exclaims, bewildered. “Buddy!” She launches herself at him and he stumbles back. “Oh, my fuu—God!”

“Hi.” He says in his Aussie accent.

“Bu-but you were missing. How, what, where, when…?” Erin trips over her words as a million questions pop into her head. “The girls have been looking for you! Where were you?!”

“Hiding. I won the tournament.” He replies, too cheerily for your liking.

“Are you a big ol’ robot?” you query.

“No, I just took food with me.”

“But, you didn’t think to call?!” you tilt your head and scratch it. “Is it really you? Are you dead?”

“Um, I don’t think so.”

“Okay, what’s a fish tank?” you ask, blasé.

“A submarine for fish.”

“Yup, it’s him alright.” You thump him on the bicep then look him dead in the eye, straight-faced. “Disappear on us like that again; Beckman and I will _personally_ kill you, although _you_ get to choose the weapon. I’ve got knives, screwdrivers, pencils, Prototype Air Filter Proton Grenades, Proton Grenades, Proton Pistols, Proton Packs, a lead pipe. I have a 9 iron, a metal baseball bat, electrodes, a 9v battery, Ecto-1B, chairs, a glass coffee pot, the upper storey windows, Ecto-2 – the motorbike. I can also drown you, set you on fire, or smack you over the head with a fire extinguisher, I…”

“Woah! Holtzy, baby girl, that’s enough!” Patty says, dragging you away from a terrified Kevin, looking like a deer caught in headlights. “You truly scare me, I want you to know that.” She adds.

“Thank you.”

“No, again, no. Not a compliment; third time I’ve told you that you scare me. Dial it down … a _lot._ ”

“Kidding!” you say, directing it at Kevin, with a creepy grin on your face.

“ _Uh, can I file a complaint?”_ he whispers to Erin.

_“You could but then I’d be inundated with four pages of paperwork and you’d be out of work, so just take it with a pinch of salt, and don’t disappear on us again, without ringing in, okay, Kevin?”_

_“Sure boss. I’m sorry.”_

_“Good boy.”_ Erin pats his arm and he wanders off to make coffee.

“I’m kidding with about half of those instruments. And, Kevin?!” you speak loudly, but not quite shouting, as he climbs the stairs. “I wouldn’t _really_ kill you. You’re too good to us!”

“Uh, thanks boss.”

“Okay, go make coffee.”

“Already on it.”

“Please.” You add after Abby raises her eyebrow at you.

You take the stairs two at a time, and let yourself into your lab on the third floor. The bottom floor is where you can park the Ecto, but you have mostly left it empty, except for a couple of wardrobes, a reception desk, some sofas and a pile of boxes containing random odds and ends – useful to only you.

The first floor is the shared space – the kitchenette, the multi-cubicle restroom and Abby and Erin’s desks. There are computers, a large table in the mirror, surrounded by metal, low-backed chairs and a battered sofa, which you salvaged from a dumpster. In one corner is a large teal bookcase containing an eclectic mix of books – from Psychology, to Physics, Municipal Records, Rowan’s copy of ‘ _Ghosts from Our Past: Both Literally and Figuratively: A Study of the Paranormal’_ , your book ‘ _Nuclear Engineering: 101’_ and Abby and Erin’s second book ‘ _A Glimpse into the Unknown: A Journey into a Portal; Catching Sight of the Other Dimension: Discovering the Undiscoverable: A Curiosity Piqued and Peaked’_ and a notebook of blueprints of your toys and gadgets.

Up on the second floor – which you tried to claim for yourself, and had to fight Patty over, is your messy desk – an entanglement of wires, machines, goggles, welding gloves, LEDs, screens, cables, a Windows 98 desktop PC holed up a corner (a mirror of your University years) and stacks of papers and books. On the opposite wall is Patty’s much neater desk. She has a DELL laptop on top, open on Google Chrome, with old maps of the underground and overground railways, the New York City roads and a more up-to-date map of the City. Surrounding your desk are different types of fire extinguishers to allow for easy access to put out an inevitable fires. Patty had warned that if the fires encroaches her area, she would throttle you and hang you outside the window – an event which you didn’t want to happen for a second time.

You throw your gloves in the vicinity of a blue loveseat and sling your multi-coloured backpack and leather jacket off and throw them near the sofa. The bag lands on it, then _thunks_ to the floor. You shrug and throw yourself onto your stool, barely landing on it. You adjust yourself and take a look at your never-ending to-do list. You make noises as you run a finger down the paper. “Doo-bee-doo.” You say tapping the one marked ‘Shock Blaster’ in your cursive handwriting. Your handwriting has improved over the years, ranging from the typical childlike scrawl, to a neater teenage handwriting, to rather illegible doctor’s handwriting to joined-up cursive. Your handwriting is exquisite now and you’ve had a fair few compliments regarding this. You oftentimes loop your ‘l’s’ and your ‘z’s’ look like some curly ‘3’, but you’re always satisfied by how it looks. You scribble idly next to it and another project pops into your head, completely different from anything else. You chew the Biro and grab a blank A3 sheet of paper from the free standing filing cabinet. You clear some space on your desk, sending various tools clattering to the floor, and wobbling your bottles of Hydrochloric Acid, Nitric Acid, and Nitroglycerine near to the edge of the table. You put your arm in the way to stop them moving, then grab them and carefully put them in the top drawer in-built into your desk. You puff air out of your mouth and search for a 2B pencil, lifting up papers, parts and an old pizza box, which is probably mouldy inside. You open your drawers and frown. Having been unable to locate one, you sashay over to Patty’s desk and scan the top of it, not wanting to disrupt anything or open any drawers.

“Oi, whatchu doin’?” she asks, startling you.

“I’m looking for a pencil.” You say, inflection dropping at the end of ‘pencil’.

“Where’s yours?”

“I don’t know. I can’t find any.”

“Well you won’t on that messy desk of yours.”

“Rude.” You say, before nodding in agreement.

Patty wanders over and _tsks._ “Babe, your desk is super messy. No wonder you can’t find anything! Man, why you got a dirty old pizza box on your table?”

“I need it.”

“For what?”

“Stuff.”

“Gimme one valid reason.”

“Uhhh…”

“Recycle it now.”

“But I–” you begin to protest.

“I ain’t playin’. Recycle bin.”

You huff and take it off her, dumping it into the appropriate recycling receptacle under the window. On your return she hands you a black-and-yellow striped School pencil, complete with an eraser on the end, and hands you a Helix eraser.

“Whatever you’re doing, keep it over there a’ight? I don’t wanna be involved.”

You salute her with two fingers, spin on your sneakered heel and head back towards your bomb sight of a desk. You tap the pencil on your upper teeth and then proceed to put it in your mouth, sucking at the eraser without even meaning to.

“Uh, go ahead an’ keep that, Holtzy.” Patty says, a look of disgust on her face as she notices you sucking her pencil.

“Thanks, man.” You say brightly.

You begin drawing a rough outline of the plan which is in your head, scribbling down little labels here and there. You tap the pencil on your teeth again, and continue working on the diagram.

Roughly ten minutes later, you announce that you’ve finished and startle Patty who’s quietly reading a Cosmopolitan magazine, having not actually done much more.

“Eureka!” you exclaim.

“What?!” she snaps, whipping her head around to look at you and dropping the glossy pages in the process.

“Eureka.” You say, more calmly this time. “I’ve got a plan for some new tech. Bear with me.” And with that you’re putting on your long faded-blue trench coat, rolling the sleeves up and running down the stairs, A4 paper of hand-scrawled notes in hand. Jumping down to the flat middle bit, you bound down the rest of the steps. Abby and Erin look up as you whizz past and roll their eyes. They’ve given up asking where you’re going as they know the answer will be something along the lines of “Gathering bits and pieces for my experiments.” (Which roughly translates to: “I’m going dumpster-diving.”)

You slam the door behind you and start, at a pace, towards the left of the Firehouse. You sprint down the street, dodging people and pushchairs, skidding to a halt in front of your favourite alleyway. You say hi to the hotdog stall owner and jump over a puddle, into the ever-darkening backstreet. Switching on the torch on your Android phone, you sweep it around until you locate the dark-green dumpster and push back the black lid. You step on a pile of cardboard boxes, which you’ve arranged as steps, and swing one leg over the top, before sitting on the edge and bringing the other around. You look at the mountain of black bags, shrug and drop yourself in.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later you trudge to the door of the Firehouse, covered in dirt and smelling ripe. You ignore the faces of the passers-by and you kick open the door, where it swings back and hits the brickwork with a _thud._

“Uh-oh, she’s back.” Abby says to Erin up on the first floor. She continues typing away at her laptop and Erin wheels her chair over to her, where they press their heads together and paw over some articles.

“How bad do you wanna bet she smells?” Erin adds, waiting for the smell of week-old garbage to enter the room.

You kick the door shut, where it joins with the frame with an equally loud _thud_ and trudge to the stairs, not realising that you have a noodle in your hair and spaghetti sauce on your sleeve, before Kevin points it out to you. You nod and smile and heft the goodies up the stairs – a white board, an old set of Christmas lights, a road map of the City and a half-worn Sharpie pen; not that you needed it as you have two brand new ones upstairs, but you thought you might as well grab it on your way past.

Your old pair of white Reebok sneakers are now ruined but you don’t want to bin them just yet, so you ignore the squelches of garbage juice squeezing out the rips in the toes and leave wet footprints up the stairs. Kevin follows behind with some Febreze. He sprays the air behind you and you get the hint.

You stop and lean on the doorway to the middle lab and the girls look as though they’re going to be sick.

“You smell ripe.” Erin says. You purse your lips together and nod. “Is that spaghetti sauce on your sleeve?” She asks covering her mouth.

“Apparently. Anyway, I got what I needed. I shall be working upstairs.”

“Send Patty down, because being in close proximity to you will probably result in us all throwing up.” Abby says, wrinkling her nose and puffing out her cheeks.

“And have a shower, babe.” Erin adds.

That was one thing that they had forced you to install about four years ago – a shower, so that you didn’t have to offend anyone’s senses for longer than necessary after your dumpster dives. Erin hands you a black plastic bin liner to dump your dirty clothes in and points you up the stairs. “There’s a towel in the wardrobe downstairs, I’ll go and fetch it and hunt for some clothes.”

You traipse upstairs and as soon as you enter the room, Patty drops the City Records book she was reading and immediately vacates the area. You drop your items in a pile on the floor, pull the blinds closed, switch on the overhead Batten lights and slog it off to the shower in the little en suite. The shower room in question was originally some sort of boiler cupboard, and you knocked through the original door with a sledgehammer and then paid some builders to extend it out so it was big enough to move around in, and then paid an actual plumber to install a simple, yet stylish shower and shower cubicle.

You hear a shout from downstairs. “BABE, I’M COMING UP, I GOT YOUR TOWEL AND THEN I’M GONNA GO GET JANE, TAKE HER TO THE GRANDPARENT’S AND COME BACK. YOU…” her voice flattens “decent?”

You had stripped off as she was ascending and now you’re stood there, starkers with a large bruise on the left side of your ribs.

“What happened?”

“Probably the dumpster.” You say, twisting to see what she’s pointing at. You cup your left breast, push it out of the way and raise your left arm. “Ooh, that’s gonna be a delightful set of colours soon.”

“Be careful you dirt-bug. Get in the shower and I might give you kisses on my return.” She throws the towel at you and you catch it, dumping it on the floor inside the shower room and bending to scoop up your clothes and lob them into the bin liner. She wanders over and smacks your ass hard, leaving it red and stingy, before sweeping out of the room in one graceful almost dance-like move. You pout and rub your buttock better before jumping in the shower, singing the SpongeBob Squarepants theme as you do so.

* * *

Erin returns before too long and you’re now dried, dressed and smelling more fragrant. Downstairs the girls are pondering over various pieces of work and Kevin is pinging and elastic band from his front teeth.

Erin enters the Firehouse just as the alarm blares and the two red beacon lights above the Ghost Containment Unit starts flashing and spinning, giving a warning.

“What the hell?” Erin asks, as she shuts the door. “GUYS, SOMETHING’S HAPPENING WITH THE CU! THE ALARM’S GOING OFF AND THE WARNING LIGHT IS SPINNING!” She shouts up the stairs.

With the sound of a herd of elephants, two of you comes racing down the stairs, and you slide down the fireman’s pole. Darting forwards, and almost tripping over your toolbox you come to rest in front of the large Ghost Containment Unit. On the computer screen is a series of green text on a black background, similar to the Matrix text and these are rapidly moving upwards. You try and scan in, but it’s moving too quick for your eyes.

The red, blue, yellow and green safety lights begin blinking and you run over to a desktop computer hooked up to it. The pressure gauge starts to rise and you begin to get more and more frantic with your typing. You navigate to the application marked as ‘BetaVision’ and scan it for abnormalities.

“Uh, Holtz?” Abby begins.

“Yeah, what?”

“Is it gonna blow?”

“Uhhh… Ask me again in 2 minutes.” You continue _clacking_ at the keys.

“Holtzy, now’s not the time to be playin’. Is it gonna blow?” Patty asks, impatiently.

“Well no, not at the moment…”

“When then?”

“Uh, gimme a minute… Uh-huh, right, yup, ooh shit … Okay, not good, nope, that’s not. Well, sorry Michigan.”

“How are you so calm?!” Erin shouts, waving her arms about, and starting to pace back and forth.

“Because if _I_ panic, y’all all start panicking and if we lose our heads, then we won’t be able to make top or tale of this. Erin, as much as I love you: quit pacing, put your arms by your sides, stand still and shut up. All of you, I need quiet. ERIN!” You look up from the computer screen and glare at her. She stops. “You were making me nervous. I don’t like it when people pace whilst I’m working, it incurs a time limit, and you know how I am with time limits.” You switch off the alarm with the control panel on the wall.

“Sorry, but _I’m_ nervous.” She says, sitting down. Only to stand up again.

You try to ignore her but she is pacing again. You pick up a file and slam it down on the metal desk. “ERIN! _PLEASE._ SIT THE FUCKING FUCK DOWN!” you snap, overly loud, so it resonates off the wall and the high ceiling. You clear your throat and speak calmer. “Sorry. I’m starting to stress and you’re making me worse. Taking a look at your watch, you see you have 5 minutes before your next pill intake and set an alarm for the hour on your phone, pocketing it again. You begin tapping at the keys again, pointing at the screen with your finger, before skirting around the ‘Nutcracker’ and over to some industrial shelves behind you.

“Ey, man. Can we turn the warning lights off?!” Patty shouts over the din. You realise it’s still blaring, and dash back to the computer, then the control panel switching off the lights.

“Sorry.” You run back between the shelves, holding a clip board and a pen. You do some cross-referencing between the screen and the clipboard and plonk it, heavily, atop the file you slammed down earlier. “Right, so that was just a bit of an accident, but we’ve nothing to worry about.”

“An ‘accident’?” Abby questions cautiously.

“Yes, there was a little bit of a system trip, and well, all the ghosts we’ve caught recently, have now ‘accidentally’…” you air quote the word “…ended up in Michigan, with the rest of the ghosts, we transported deliberately over the years.”

“Oh, well that’s 20 hours away. Out of our jurisdiction.” Erin says, finally happy.

“You’re lucky they didn’t escape back here!” Abby concludes. “7 years’ worth of ghosts, that’s a fuck load.”

“Well, I set it so that they get transported to Michigan, and the default location is Michigan, so if a breakdown occurs, they end up there. It’s all good in the ‘hood.”

“Yeah, well thanks to you this neighbourhood is safe and sound.” Erin concludes, pulling you in for a hug. “I’m sorry I was so stressy.”

“And I’m sorry I shouted.”

“Uh, guys, what happened?” Kevin says, from the stairs.

“Buddy, how did you miss all the commotion?” You ask, head tilted, frowning.

“Noise cancelling headphones.” He shrugs.

“Must be suped up then, cos we just had our CU alarm blaring for the last 10 minutes.” You say, blowing air out of your nose, disbelievingly.

Kevin trumps back up the stairs and resumes his place on the kitchen worktop, despite the phone at reception now ringing.

Abby answers it. “Hello, Ghostbusters. Please give a detailed description of your apparition… Right, yes, oh, well that sounds like a Class III, uh-huh. Yup, and the address? Uhhh-huuuh… Mhmm… Okay, right away ma’am.” She hangs up. “We got one!” she shouts.

“Oh thank God, I was thinking it was too stagnant recently.” Erin quips. You throw off anything that would cause a nuisance under your jumpsuit – which is most of your clothes and dash in your tank top, neon sports bra, Pugtato socks and leggings over to the wardrobe labelled ‘J. HOLTZMANN’. You haven’t bothered changing yours or Erin’s brass-plated labels to ‘HOLTZBERT’ to save confusion. You fling the doors open, yank the jumpsuit off the hanger and step into it, wriggling it up over your hips and thrusting your arms into the sleeves, before it’s reached your shoulders. You’re a little stuck and hop about until Patty comes to give you some assistance. You grab your boots from the bottom of the wardrobe and sit on the bottom step to pull them on and lace them up. Taking the steps two at a time, you dash upstairs to take a pre-bust wee and slide down the pole having done all the buttons up. You furtle around the pockets and realise you’re missing your wallet. Back up the stairs you go and you pull your wallet from your flared trousers. You clip your ID badge to your left breast pocket and put the wallet in your left thigh pocket as your timer beeps downstairs.

“IS THAT MY TIMER?!” you enquire to the downstairs area.

“YUP, YOU GOOD?”

“MEDS!” You yell and run up to your office, and start rummaging around for your Adderall and antidepressants. “UH, I CAN’T FIND THEM. CAN I HAVE SOME HELP, PLEASE?!”

“TIME IS OF THE ESSENCE, HOLTZ!” Abby yells as she runs up the stairs, leaving Erin and Patty to start loading the back of Ecto with the Packs and the Ghost Trap. They open the front two doors, for quick entry and climb into the back, belting themselves up, ready and waiting.

Abby appears in your doorway, as your flinging your dirty clothes out of the bag and checking the pockets: devoid of medication.

She approaches your desk and pulls open the top drawer, before pulling open the second one. “Second drawer down, come on.” She dispenses one of each and holds them out to you. You pop them in your mouth and dry-swallow forcefully before spluttering.

“Gah, bad idea.”

“Was gonna tell you that in advance.”

You show her your empty mouth and the pair of you dash towards the door, but not before you grab the two Proton Grenade slings lying on the back of the couch. You peg it down the first flight of stairs, and this time, you take the ‘Stripper Pole’ one after the other. Your keys are thrown at you and you drop them.

“We’re gonna be late.” Abby reminds.

“I know, I know. Get in. KEVIN?!” He appears from behind the pillar. “I don’t have the time to ask how you got there, but doors, please.”

“Right you are boss.” He meanders slowly.

“DUDE, RUN!”

He runs and pulls them open one by one so they swing inwards and attaches the reinforced hook at the back of the door to the hook-hole in the wall, he salutes as you slam on the accelerator.

“Left.” Abby calls.

You veer to the left, tyres squealing and punch the siren button. It begins blaring and cars are stopping or pulling to the side of the road to let you pass.

“Guys, we _have_ got everything, don’t we?”

“Yup, Packs and Trap are in the back.” Erin calls.

Abby holds up the grenade slings. “Grenades check.”

The steering wheel feels odd in your hands and you realise your driving gloves have been left behind. “Did you all pick up your busting gloves?” Three gloved hands rise.

“Yours are here, babe.” Erin adds.’

“Okay, gimme. I’ve left my drivin’ ones back at the HQ and this steering wheel feels funny.”

“Have you never driven without gloves?”

“Uh, not since I was 16.”

“Wait, you drove at 16?” Patty asks. “Man, I didn’t start until I was 19. I mean, I failed, but whatever.”

“So literally only 3 of us are qualified to drive?” Erin questions.

“Yup, seems like it. Abs, wha’ ‘bout you?” You say, poking her arm.

“20 for me. Late to the game.”

“Erin?”

“Passed at 18.”

“Course you did.” You say. “Well, I passed at 17, so there!” you say, staring at Erin’s face in the mirror. “Ha!” you add, for maximum effect.

“Eyes on the road, Holtzy!” Abby cries.

“Wuuuh.” You say, swerving a little. “My bad.”

The light ahead has just changed to amber, and you decide to chance it. You press your foot harder into the accelerator and the engine roars, the red needle shooting up from 50 to 70.

“Holtz!” Abby yells, clinging on to the handle above the door. Erin and Patty do the same and cling on to their seatbelts as well.

“C’mon, c’mon, c’moooon …” you suck air through your teeth and blast through a red light, accompanied by the squealing of tyres and the blaring of horns.

“You’re reckless.”

“I know, but we wanna get there in time, right?”

“Do you know how much paperwork there will be if we’re caught right.”

You laugh uproariously. “We won’t do, don’t worry.”

“Honey, that’s two red lights you’ve jumped just today.

“Look, if we get there in 30 minutes or less, our client fee is $4,000. For the big ones, like the Class IVs and above, including entrapment, it’s an additional $1,000. If it takes more than 30 minutes, they get a discount. If it takes more than an hour, they get the job for free and I’m not about to start letting Tom, Dick and Harry get it for free. We have a reputation _and_ a business to uphold. Don’t forget, in our first year, we made $1,092,731. Add in all our bills, the $21,000 a month rent, gas money, food, etc. that’s an estimated total of $627,483 a month, left.

“And in doing so, does breaking the law and killing us count as ‘keeping up the reputation’?” Patty jibes.

“You want me to slow down?”

“No, but turn right here.”

“Hmm, didn’t think so.” You cackle.

The tyres squeal as you whip around the corner, the backend being flung out a little dangerously, narrowly missing the front of a Citroën waiting to turn left.

“Jesus Fucking Christ!” Erin shrieks.

“Hey, we’re good. And I wanna keep making sure we’re keeping over $600,000 a month. So, shush, lemme drive. Where next, Abs?”

“Just up on the left, it’s an office building.”

“Fan-fucking-tastic; more civilians to evacuate.” You grumble.

“Potentially a bigger check though, Holtzy baby!” Patty exclaims, before clapping and laughing.

You pull up outside the office block, to discover that there is a huge crowd behind held back by police officers and ‘POLICE: DO NOT CROSS’ barriers. There is a van marked _CNN_ off to one side, and news reporters with mini booms and large cameras are swarming the area. As per usual, Jennifer Lynch is there in a pressed suit, trying to handle the situation.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, please there is no cause for alarm. The Ghostbusters have been called and are on their way.”

You park a little way behind the van, on the right-hand side of the road, and jump out. Doors are closed, and the back door is opened. You pull the gurney out and everyone loads up. You decide to leave the grenades behind, but hide them in the glove compartment, so they don’t get jacked by some unruly teen. Clicking the belt buckle of the A.L.I.C.E frame you stand in a line.

“Let’s go.” Abby and Erin say in unison.

“Oh. Did you want to…?” Erin asks.

“I’m sorry.” Abby replies.

“I'll let you. I'll let you.” Erin replies, awkwardly.

 **“** Next time.” Abby shrugs.

Through this ordeal, Patty looks at her shoes, harping back to outside the Stonebrook Theatre and you roll your tongue, before twisting it a little in your teeth.

The four of you cross the road in unison. “Hey, hey, ‘scuse us. Coming through, coming through.” Abby says, trying to wave the crowd apart, like Moses splitting the Red Sea.

“Ghostbusters!” someone yells.

“Oi, move, the Ghostbusters are here. Ey, man, move back.” A man in the crowd shouts.

Jennifer and Agents Hawkins and Rourke nod at you, before Rourke holds his hand up. “Minimal damage, ladies.”

“ _Tow our car, and I will kick you in the balls.”_ You hiss.

“ _Ken doll situation.”_ Abby reminds you.

_“We’re watching you.”_

_“Ew, that’s a little creepy.”_ You reply. Jennifer gives you both a look and you cease your bickering.

“Thank you from me and the citizens of New York City.” She replies, brightly.

“Ey, man, why is CNN here?”

“There’s a charity event here, and the entity was last seen on the ‘Special Brighton Beach’ train and that’s why they’re here, and now they’re here for you.”

A man wearing a black t-shirt emblazoned with _CNN_ in red and khaki shorts approaches, adjusting his chest harness, and subsequently his handicam.

“Hold your ponies. We didn’t agree to this.” You say. Erin hands the necessary paperwork to a man in a Burberry suit, who explains the situation that they have – apparently he’s the one who spoke to Abby on the phone.

“What seems to be the problem?” he asks, frowning at you.

“We can’t have anyone following us, it’s far too dangerous.”

“Look, if you let him follow you around, I will pay you double and _CNN_ will also pay you if they use your footage. You’re looking at $10,000 from me for this operation, and potentially another $5,000 from them; so that’s $15,000 for this operation.”

You convene between yourselves and sign the paperwork, ensuring minimal structural damage and allowing the cameraman to follow you.

“Quick question though, bud.” You ask pointing a finger near the cameraman’s face. “Do you have your own insurance, as ours doesn’t cover third-party civilians joining us on a bust?”

“Yeah, I do. Here.” He produces a crumpled piece of paper and Erin and Abby paw over it.

“Yup, it’s legit.”

“Alright then, bud.”

“Trevor.”

“Alright, Trevor, but, er, stay at least 50ft back.”

“I’ll add my long-range lens then.” He disappears into the van.

“Yeah, you do that.”

The four of you take the steps, you and Abby at the front, with the taller ones taking the rear, and Trevor filming from behind. He begins commentating quietly.

 _“So the Ghostbusters are now entering the New York Transit Museum, Brooklyn. The entity was last seen on one of the trains, but only the Ghostbusters are aware of what class it is; apparently each ghost has a class to them to help the team to prioritise. Let’s hope it’s not too dangerous. I’m Trevor, and I’m reporting to you live for CNN. Stay tuned folks.”_ He finally goes silent.

 _“I really hope Trev doesn’t do that for the whole bust.”_ You whisper to Abby.

 _“Yeah, I’ll admit that that will get pretty irritating after a while.”_ She checks the PKE meter. Nothing.

You sigh, and curse under your breath. “Right, ladies, I suggest you limber up as you walk. These Packs are heavy and will start to compact our spinal columns around floor 5, so I suggest maybe stretching as you walk.” You begin lunging and Trevor snorts. “Hey man, perhaps you should also limber up.” You say, over your shoulder, looking directly into the camera. “Also, Trev, my man, these Proton Packs are 30 pounds each, so if you wanna carry mine, you’re more than welcome to!” You remark, snidely.

“Uh, I’m good thanks, buster.”

“Uh, do you mean ‘buster’ as in _Ghostbuster_ , or are you just calling me a ‘buster’?”

“Whichever works for you?” He replies, grinning behind the camera.

“Holtzmann is fine, thanks.” You say, inhaling and rolling your eyes. “Oh, and if that camera starts zooming in, to any of our asses, then it’s going—” you stop, realising that it’s probably live... “In the bin.” You finish, covering what you wanted to say which was: ‘ _up your ass.’_

You all traipse through the reception area and head towards the stairwell. Pushing open the door, you lead the way, full of zeal and start bounding down the stairs. The others follow at a more leisurely pace. “I want to bust a ghost this century, guys.”

Patty rolls her eyes and starts jumping down them with ease.

“Well now, that’s just showing off.” You say, turning to see her galloping up them.

“The privilege of being tall, girl.” She remarks, playfully.


	49. Chapter 47

As you descend the steps into the museum, at a rather unplanned high speed, your foot slips off the metal trimming, and you topple over backwards. With an _oomph_ and a _ungh_ , Patty and Abby catch you and push you upright with great difficulty, before the three of you crash to the steps. You pat Abby’s arm and thank her, before bounding down the stairs. You walk between the various carriages, strewn with historical posters and advertisements.

You step inside a vintage train, with green-painted wood and scoff at one of the signs which reads:

SPITTING

ON THE FLOOR OF THIS CAR

BEING A MISDEMEANOUR, IS PUNISHABLE BY

$500 FINE, A YEAR IN PRISON, OR BOTH

You lean forward to read the fine-print: ‘Penal Law, Sec. 1937’. “Woah, guys, you can spend a year in prison for spitting on the floor, back in 1937. Or be lumped with a $500 fine, that’s … uhm … dear God, that’s a fine of $8,972.61 in today’s money!”

“That’s how inflation works!” Abby replies, from the other side of the room.

Abby’s PKE Meter starts going crazy around her neck. She looks down to where it is resting against her left hip, having felt the prongs smacking her side. She lifts it up and the end is spinning rapidly, and it begins beeping erratically.

“Hello” you sing, stepping out of the carriage-car. “It looks like our friend has come to join us down on this level.”

“Gear up, ladies!” Abby says. Her right hand instinctively reaches behind her to grab her wand, but she keeps her eyes on the PKE Meter. Her hand hovers over the Neutrona Wand’s handle, but she rejects it and puts it back on the PKE. Keeping the meter in front of her, she allows you and Patty to dash past her, guns in hand, reading to kick spectral butt. Trevor and Erin approach from behind and Abby warns Trevor to stay back. He nods, slight terror etched onto his face, and he presses himself along one of the walls along the ‘platform’.

You and Patty walk into a larger space, and follow the beeping on the PKE Meter. High above you are LED lights embedded into the ceiling and as you approach the middle they flicker off and back on again.

Pressed in a circle, with your backs to one another, you all stand there, feet shoulder-width apart, both hands on the gun, watching all angles. You look like a bunch of superheroes, just without the ridiculous skin-tight suits, but still combat-ready. The lights flicker again and you hear a male voice cackling demonically. You tilt your head, widen, then narrow your eyes and lick your lips. You feel Erin, to your left, adjusting the gun in her hands; and Patty, to your right, raising her shoulders. You can’t feel Abby on account of the fact that your large Packs, DLA devices and cryocooler chambers are strapped to your backs, but you can hear her shuffling her feet.

Silence befalls you, but still you wait; like four hungry predators, waiting for their prey. Or, perhaps, four prey, waiting for their hidden predator to strike.

Trevor begins narrating quietly to himself, but it is still loud enough for you to hear him.

_“The Ghostbusters, currently waiting for whatever it is that is causing havoc in the office block. Moments ago was demonic cackling, but we haven’t seen or heard any more since. This seems to be a rather long waiting game, but it seems that the Ghostbusters are prepared for whatever might come their way. Let’s see shall we?”_

* * *

Outside _CNN_ are live-broadcasting to the giant TV screens in Times Square, over 30 minutes away. You are not aware of this, as you think it will be shown across the TVs in America on the 5 o’clock news, but everyone in the vicinity, on the streets, has stopped and a large crowd has gathered. They are all craning their necks upwards, to the massive 2,013.25 square feet billboards. Normally a place for adverts, it appears that CNN have forked out $3.6 million to broadcast there. Of course, the four of you are blown up to an abnormally large proportion, but you’re still in crystal clear high definition.

It seems as though a shared event is being held as men, women and children wait with baited breath to see what happens next. Traffic grinds to a halt, as people being to get out of their cars, attracted to the image of the beige jumpsuits, adorned with horizontal orange stripes, and the franchise logo – a cartoonish ghost, in a red circle and a diagonal line through it – ‘No Ghost’ – seated on the right shoulder.

* * *

You begin to get impatient at the lack of visuals, so you begin singing: “Come out, come out, wherever you are.” You voice echoes off the metalwork and the demonic cackling starts again.

“Here we go…” You begin just as a Class III shoots down from the ceiling.

“Alright, ladies, we’ve got a corporeal Class III entity. Distinct human form, but former identity is not established. Everyone got eyes on?”

“Yup.” You say in unison.

“Someone liked my singing… Yoo hoo, over here!” you sing, before whistling the syllables.

The ghost, dressed in what appears to be construction worker’s clothes – with full colour, hard hat and tool bag – charges straight for you, arms grabbing at the air. “SPLIT!” you yell and the four of you dive in different directions. You land on your back and thumb the trigger button, shooting a predominantly red (but with an orange-yellow core) stream of positively charged ions at the ghost. The gun jerks in your hard and the stream hits the lights on the ceiling causing them to spark. “Damn it, Holtzmann!” you snap at yourself.

You scramble to your feet as the ghost charges at Abby. “DUCK!” She does so. “Guys, it looks as though … judging by these … oi!” you _zap_ the ghost, but it zips out of the way, so you hit another light. “Movements, it has a short-range and melee attack. It’s playing games with us. Trying to attack us, one by one. Don’t let it pick you off.”

“You think?” Erin remarks, snidely.

“Yeah, thanks for that…” Patty says, a bit more pleasantly.

“Okay, well, next time, I won’t tell you about their attacks.” You huff.

“Stating the obvious, Holtz, that’s all.” Abby says, patting your arm, before giving it a squeeze.

“Where’s the little asshole got to now?” you query, forgetting that you’re being filmed.

The demonic laughter echoes around the room again, as the ghost appears a second time. You realise, with a sickening feeling, that there is more than one and that the cackling is _not_ coming from the construction worker. A couple of blasts from the Proton Stream, renders the ghost into a puddle of ectoplasm on the floor and as the girls high five, you stand there, gun still in hand, shaking your head.

“No, that was too easy. There’s another one; maybe more. That laughing didn’t come from that one.” You look about you for any signs of life – well _dead_ life and you smell something strange – a sort of ethereal vapour of hotdogs and other fast foods.

An incoherent babbling fills the room and then, zooming towards you in the disgusting green blob you saw, back in 2016, which stole your car and drove it into the portal, by your actions. The other three turn to see, the fat, green blob and trail of Slime on the wall behind it.

“Wait a minute, isn’t that…?” Abby begins.

“Yup, _Slimer_.” Erin adds; I dubbed him Slimer.

“Didn’t that Green Slime-ball end up in the vortex though?” Patty questions, pointing a finger in his direction.

“Yes, and that concerns me.” You say monotone. “He was banished into the Ghostworld via that portal, but he’s back. That doesn’t make me feel too good.”

“How many more ghosts do you think have come back through?”

“I’m hoping just this one asshole… but, we can’t be too sure, because the dead are unpredictable.” You reply, not taking your eyes off Slimer. “What I am confused about is why he is down _here_ and not, well, up there, stuffing his face somewhere.”

Slimer belches loudly, and the sound reverberates off the walls and the metal train carriages.

“Sounds like he has recently eaten.” Patty concludes.

“Yeh, well, let’s get rid of him.” You cock your head at him, watching him just floating there, waiting for his move. “It’s like we’re playing chess. Your move.” You joke.

Poor choice of words.

Slimer babbles again and flies, at speed towards you. You aim the barrel of the gun at him and press the trigger button. The beam connects to his chubby little body and he roars in pain. A second and a third beam also reaches their target, and finally Erin’s comes into play. Slimer twists and turns in the grasp of the beams and he manages to yank the streams upwards, which forces you to all lift your guns skywards. He cackles again, and rips loose from the streams, shooting back and forth between the trains, and causing you to ping-pong your lasers.

He darts about the room, so you charge after him, running through display trains, following his lines of green ectoplasmic goo. You kick open the one carriage door and charge down the other one, trying to keep up with him. You enter a third carriage, where he whips out of one of the windows. You have no choice but to smash it – there’s no way you’re going to wrench open the train doors.

You swing your Proton Gun into the class, right in the corner and watch is shatter with a satisfying noise. Erin and Patty just roll their eyes and Abby tuts at you. You knock the remaining glass through and grab the top of the window frame with your gloved hands. Swinging your legs through, like you’re in an action movie, you head through, feet first, and land, knees bent, on the ‘platform’. The others climb through carefully.

“Where’s that creepy bastard got to now?” You ask, letting a short burst of energy zap from your gun.

Slimer suddenly appears from the ceiling; having had time to steal a hotdog, presumably from an unwitting vendor. He stuffs his face and belches, loudly. You look rather impressed and the others are disgusted.

“Hey there, you Slime-ball.” You say, calmly.

Slimer, somehow agitated by your tone of voice, launches himself at you, babbling nonsense. You fire a Proton Stream and the others circle around him, firing theirs one at a time.

“DON’T CROSS THE STREAMS!” you yell as Abby’s and Erin’s become dangerously close. “It will cause a total Protonic reversal and all our molecules will violently implode.” You add a lot calmer.

“yo, Holtzy. What about the portal? We didn’t die then, we just got knocked off our feet.” Patty questions, whipping Slimer from side to side.

“We got lucky, because of the portal. We had space for them to cross and the magnitude of the portal must have counteracted the energy of the Proton Streams. If we do it in here, chances are one or two things … and us … okay, so six or seven things will blow up, and I don’t want to be one of them.”

“Why won’t this sucker just stop fighting us?” Erin grunts, also whipping Slimer from side to side.

“I don’t know, but he’s giving me arm ache; would you stop whipping him?”

You shoot more beams at Slimer, but he tugs away again. Four beams hit a train and it sparks, fire surging from the inside having hit one of the fabric chairs. The sudden force of the fireball rips through the open door and you all throw yourself out of the way – action movie style and press yourselves to the floor. The four of you Army-crawl forwards, well out of the way of the flames currently engulfing the train.

A small alarm starts blaring, but not the fire alarm you’re hoping for. Your left eardrum has been perforated again and you get up unsteadily. You shake your head, to try and clear the ringing in your ear. The alarm continues blaring and you realise that it’s coming from your Pack. You twist around, trying to see what’s broken and end up cracking your back; painfully.

“Argh, no. Ow.” You exclaim.

“What, what happened?” Erin asks, standing slowly.

“My back cracked, and something’s up with my Pack.”

“Your cryocooler chamber is compromised.”

“What? No, shit, my nightmare…”

“It’s not gonna happen, just breathe.”

You begin to panic, and Erin’s calming voice is coming across as patronising and it’s stressing you out.

And then the fire alarm blares and the sprinklers come on.

“Water in the Packs, water in the Packs!” Abby exclaims.

“They’re waterproof. We’ve used them in the rain… Well, all the wires and the electronics and the motherboard are all internal.” Your Pack begins to filter out smoke and it starts sizzling in the water; not a good sign as the insides are exposed. On the plus side, it’s aiding the cool-down. “Mine on the other hand…” you take it off and examine it, still getting soaked from the fire safety system. “The one time I don’t bring the silver duffel bag.”

“What’s even in it?” Patty questions.

“Duct Tape, uhh, spare Ghost Trap, scissors, uhh, First Aid Kit.”

“You carry a First Aid Kit?”

“Erin made me.”

“Well, that’s fair enough.”

“Urgh, anyone got anything to patch this up with?”

“Oh, yes, cos I happen to carry Duct Tape with me at all times.” Erin announces sarcastically.

“Really?” you ask, perking up.

“No.” she replies flatly.

You tilt your head, and look disappointed.

You decide to chance it and sling the Proton Pack over your shoulders, fastening it with the waist belt and clip.

Slimer, who has been in and out of the room to mess with you, appears once more. You fight with him some more and with one final entrapment by the three beams; he is smacked into the ceiling.

Slimer suddenly roars louder than anything you have ever heard before; especially from the size that he is.

“HOLTZ?” Abby yells.

“YEAH?”

“WE’RE GONNA NEED YOU…” She begins, but stops, as she thinks you have understood.

“WHAT?” You ask when you don’t know what she’s asking.

“TRAP, HOLTZ!”

“OKAY, YEAH, BUT, UH, WE HAVEN’T ENOUGH! … OKAY, TRAP …” You pull the cylinder from below the base of your Proton Pack and drop it to the floor. Slimer pulls himself backwards, and the lassoed streams with it. “Okay, on my count…” you say, before lowering your voice to talk to yourself “… One…” you kick the trap forwards, so it scrapes along the floor. “…Two…” you hit the Upper Arm Remote Trigger, strapped to your left bicep, it _bleeps_ , reading _PEDAL READY TO ACTIVATE_ … The pedal flies out of the back of the Ghost Trap, and lands at your feet, ready for deployment.

You raise your foot above the flat metal pedal – similar in size to an electric guitar pedal – and wait for the UART to _bleep_ again. It does so, and the text changes to: _PEDAL ACTIVATED_ and lights up green. “Okay… and THREE!” You yell the final number, slam your foot into the pedal and hear the doors _clang_ open and the air suction begin. A beam of bright yellow light, tapering towards the centre of the trap, bursts upwards towards the ceiling, covering Slimer in the process. He is dazed from your Proton Streams, and having been knocked about several times, and now has little energy to resist the trap. “Okay, so we’ve had one Class III just burst on us, and now, this Class V isn’t resisting. Something’s amiss here.”

“Why are you complaining for?” Patty asks.

“Something definitely doesn’t feel right. What if this is just the start of something bigger?” You query, confusion etched across your face.

“What, like more ghosts?” she asks.

“Nah, no, somethin’ _much_ bigger. Like a repeat of Times Square.”

“That’s not good.”

“No, we need to take this fucker back to the lab and do some research.”

Erin glares at you.

“What?”

“ _We’re still being filmed.”_ She hisses.

 _“Oh, shit”_ You mutter to her. “Sorry, my bad; I just dropped an F-Bomb. Whoops!” you pull an awkward face into the camera and laugh sheepishly. The others shake their head at you, but Trevor, standing pale-faced, doesn’t move a muscle, or say a word. You clap him on the shoulder and make him jump. He stares at you, still speechless. “Good job, Trev.” You say as Abby approaches.

“Stay still Holtz, we’ve gotta turn this off.” She checks the pressure gauge and frowns. “Uh, Holtz?”

“Yeah, what?”

“The pressure gauge has dropped.”

“Oh, thank God for that. For a minute there, I thought you were gonna tell me it was rising, and if that was the case, I would’ve thrown it off me and waited for it to explode. Thank God none of us died.” She presses buttons and you hear the cool-down alarm blare and then it shuts down. “Well, more fun for me.”

Patty picks up the smoking trap, with the foot pedal and wire still exposed. “Yo, why ain’t you set this so it automatically goes back in when the trap closes?”

“Uhh, it’s on my to-do list.”

Erin raises an eyebrow. “The never-ending one on your desk?”

“Mmhmm. That’s the one.”

Abby reattaches it to the base of your Pack and tucks the wire up and the foot pedal is put in your back pocket. You suppress a giggle as she touches your bum.

“What’re we gonna do about the collateral damage?” Erin asks, her eyebrows knitted together in worry.

“Get billed for it, pro’ly.” You sigh and look down at your booted feet.

Patty rubs your arm. “Sometimes that shit just happens, buddy.”

“I know, to be fair, these aren’t easy to wrangle and if anyone wants to complain, then they should have a go at using them.” You laugh and she shakes her head. “The kickback is better now though, you’ll have to admit it.”

“Oh, God, I can attest to that!” Abby exclaims. “That first handheld one rammed me into the air.”

“You did a marvellous impression of a deflating balloon.”

“Yeah, thanks for that.”

“Hey, back alley tests are there for a reason – to see what needs to be adjusted.”

“I’m just grateful for the helmet and hockey pads.”

“You’re welcome.” You grin widely.

The four of you hug before you push a still-stunned Trevor up the stairs. “Dude, you can blink now. It’s done, it has gone bye-bye.” You say, still guiding him.

He gulps loudly. “Well, that was rather, uhh, interesting.”

“Well, that’s what we do. Just not always as dangerous as that – and certainly not always fires; except when I cause them in the lab.” You chuckle awkwardly and he is snapped out of his trance.

* * *

Back outside, there is an uproarious yell from the crowds gathered in Times Square. They all watched the events unfolding live and the atmosphere was incredibly tense. Many pedestrians hug each other – victorious and elated at the bursting of the one ghost and the entrapment of the other. Of course, during the whole fire escapade, everyone was stood, wide eyed, breaths drawn, fearing for your lives.

And once you started fussing about your Proton Pack, again, people were stood in absolute silence, drawn to the screens.

As soon as you venture back upstairs, the drivers get back in their cars and everyone carries on walking (except for the large horde outside the Transit Museum, waiting for you to exit) hurriedly to get to their destinations that they are now more than half an hour late for their 9am starts.

* * *

You step outside into blinding sunlight and immediately you’re attacked by news reporters. The crowd begins to chant: “Ghostbusters! Ghostbusters!” This is a reminder of the events at the Stonebrook Theatre.

“My gosh.” Erin says. “Stonebrook Theatre, much?”

“Yeah, totes.” Patty replies.

A female reporter obstructs your path. “You said that the green ghost, uh, ‘Slimer’ is back. What does this mean for New York?

You bend your head down into the microphone and repeat the words you said after taking out Mayhem, the Class III at Rock Revenge Fest XIV. “We made magic today, and that’s all I got to say. I’m Holtzmann.”

The crowd begins clapping and you whoop loudly, before doing your signature Lesbian Salute.

The female reporter tries to get more out of you, and Abby takes over. “As we said before, we’re here for the unanswerable questions and, really, to pursue the truth. We don’t know what links there are, if any, as of yet, but we’re determined to find out. We’re scientists, plus Patty, and so whatever is happening, or could potentially happen in the foreseeable future, we’re gonna find out and stop it, like last time.

“We’re the Ghostbusters!” Erin yells, mirroring what she said 7 years ago. The crowd goes wild and you start the cross the street before being stopped by the man in the suit.

“The collateral?” he enquires. Erin takes him to one side and they talk quietly, but animated. She then shakes his hand, signs a piece of paper and asks you to do the same. You frown, wanting to read the document and snatch it from the guy’s hand. You skim read it, inputting “Mhm”, “Uh-huh”, “Oohkaay”, “Yup” and “Sure” every now and again. You sign it, click the pen, so that the nib retracts, put the pen in the man’s breast pocket, tap said pocket and smooth the shoulder of his suit, before winking at him and pushing your way through the crowd to the Ecto-1B.

You unlock the car and everyone removes their Packs, stretching and clicking various limbs, before the backdoor is opened, the Packs are placed carefully on the gurney, which Abby has pulled out, one handed, and pushed back in again. You all take on more water, and clamber into the car. Reclining into the seats, you all inhale deeply and release the air slowly, before belting up.

“Fuck.” You breathe. “Fuck, fuck, fucky-fuck, fuck.”

Patty catches your eye in the central mirror. “You alright up front?”

“ _Ungh_.” You pop an Adderall and antidepressant in your mouth at the same time, and steal Erin’s water bottle, which is now in the cup holder you added three weeks ago. You realise that you’re 45 minutes late with them both, but the adrenaline had kept you going and you realise that you’re probably fine. “Yup, I’m good.”

“What’s with the cursing?”

“I needed to get that out of my system. The first ‘fuck’ is cos I’m tired, the second for that Class III, the third ‘fuck’ and ‘fucky-fuck’ is for Slimer returning and the final one is because I was behind on my meds and I’m really trying to keep on top of them.”

Erin holds your hand and places it in her lap, stroking the back of it with her thumb. “You’re doing really well, beautiful.” She kisses the back of it and lets it go, so you can get driving.

“Thanks, but I’m tired of having to take them all the time. I just want to be a _littler_ neurotypical.”

“But if you were, then you wouldn’t be the brilliant scientist and engineer that you are, sweetie.”

“Mhm.”

She grabs the front of your overalls, and pulls you in for a kiss. When you part, you flush red.

“ _People…”_ You whispers.

“Who cares?”

“Uhhh…”

She winds down the window and pokes her head out of.

“Wha-what are you doing?”

“Hey, hey Yankees…”

You tug at her back pocket, but she hangs on to the roof. The attention is successfully drawn to her. “I just want to tell you, that I…”

“Don’t do it…” You begin.

“Seriously man…” Patty starts.

You and Abby overlap speech. “Erin, if it’s on the news…”

“There’s still some homophobes out there…”

Patty leans forwards in her seat and tries to assist you. “Erin, quit playin’ man…”

“I wanna tell you, that, I, Erin Gilbert, love my friends very much and one in particular…”

“Oh, God, she’s doing it…” Patty facepalms.

You tug forcefully again, and rip the pocket.

“Baaaabe…”

Erin decides to shout the next piece of information at the top of her lungs: “I LOVE JILLIAN HOLTZMANN AND I’M GLAD I MARRIED HER!”

You shrink in your seat out of embarrassment, placing your head in your hands. You realise, all too late, that the cameras were rolling and recording the whole thing.

A throng of people surround the car, and beckon you and her out of it. Erin tucks her head in and winds the electric window closed, before unbelting herself, getting out of the car and partially shutting the door. You’re still red faced, and as she pulls open the door and leans over to unbuckle your seat belt, you try and fight her.

“No, no…Erin, sto…Mhm… _Erin._ ” She kisses you to shut you up and you sigh, reluctantly getting out of the car. You shut the door and lean against it, elbows propped on the window ledge. She wraps an arm around you and pulls you in for a side hug, before kissing your cheek and flashing her wedding ring to the spectators. It is an elegant 18ct white gold band with both your birthstones embedded into the surface – a Garnet which represents January for you and a Peridot which represents August for her. On the inside, written in simple text are the words ‘Come here often?’ which were the first words you said to her when you first met. Yours is exactly the same, except yours simply has your original initials and the date you got together as girlfriends – ‘JH, EG. 30.11.19’

A couple of millennials crowd you and take a closer look at the ring, with a chorus of ‘Awws’.

“Babe, that’s like so pretty.” One hipster with a beanie perched on her head, wearing oversized hexagonal glasses and a pink shirt emblazoned with pineapples says. She reaches into her denim jeans and pulls out her iPhone. “Hey, can I take a pic and put it on Insta?”

“Sure.” Erin says. You remain quiet. Erin holds her hand flat, and the girl takes it with her one hand, whilst holding the camera, at an angle, just above it.

“So like, what are the stones?” she asks. Your grind your teeth at her high voice.

“Oh, they’re our birthstones. The red one is a Garnet, for the month of January, and that’s Holtzy’s. And the green one is mine; it’s a Peridot and is for August.”

“That is so cute. So, what have you got, babe?” she asks.

“The same.”

“Oh, my God, matching lesbians. I freaking love that. Hey Daniii, come check this out…”

Kevin’s sister, Dani, appears from the crowd wearing a: _I Love Ganja_ t-shirt, but with the love heart replaced by a cannabis leaf. “Oh hey guys.” She says, pulling first Erin, and then you in for a tight, squeezing hug.

“Wait, you know theeem?”

“Yeah, my brother’s there receptionist.”

“Oh, my God, Kevin? The one that went missing?”

“Yeeeah, Kevin. I was at their engagement party.”

“Oh coo’, coo’. Yeah, that’s like totally awesome, dudes. Hey, Dani?”

“Yeah?”

“Wanna smoke some reefers now?”

“Uh, yano what, no, no I don’t.”

“Wait, what?” she says, the timbre of her voice increasing.

“Stacey, you wanna know why I hang out with you?”

“Cos you liiiike meee?”

“Uhhh…”

“Ohh mmyy Goood, you dooon’t liiiike meeee?” she whines, elongating each word.

“I like you for your weed, man, but you, you just annoy the shit out of me. Like, I’m done. I can’t keep blowing all my money on weed, man. I’ve made some poor life decisions, and dating your cousin Brandon was the worst mistake I ever made.”

“Wait, why?”

Dani pulls off her t-shirt and stands there in a sports bra and stomach-showing crop top. “You can have this back; it’s too big for me anyway.” She pulls a black-and-red checked flannel shirt with grey hood from her backpack and chucks it on, buttoning it up, except the top two.

 _“What is happening?”_ You whisper to Erin.

 _“I think they’re breaking up … as friends.”_ She replies.

The pair of you stands there and watches the scene unfold, too scared to say anything. Dani then puts her hair into a low ponytail, and pulls a New York Islanders ice hockey Snapback from her backpack, before roughly zipping up her bag and putting the cap, backwards, on her head. You insides flip and you think about the time you first met – girls in Snapbacks are really, _really_ hot. You swallow and lick your lips.

Throwing on a pair of Ray-Ban aviators to complete the look, she pushes her sleeves up, and it dawns on you – the stereotype of lesbians wearing plaid/flannel shirts, having their sleeves continuously pushed up roughly, or rolled up neatly (you look at your own pushed up sleeves, resting at your elbow joint), carrying backpacks instead of purses or handbags, wearing Snapbacks and either vests, tanks, or muscle-tees; looking at Dani, you see she ticks four of those boxes. Then you notice the short nails; another innocuous sign.

She sighs. “So yeah, I shouldn’t have dated Brandon, but you pushed and pushed and I gave in. We were literally more like bros, though. I didn’t even kiss him.”

“But he’s a good kisser.”

“Ew, wh-wha-what? I-is that _incest_ … Duuude, noooo!” She says a look of disgust on her face.

“Oh, God, no. Ew, no! Rebekah dated him for two years. She told me everything; even the se—” Stacey begins, realising that she’s still holding her phone, before pocketing it.

“La, la, la, la… Nope, don’t wanna hear it.” She says, covering her ears, and sounding just like you when you want to ignore Erin. “No, dude, I didn’t do anything with him, because I’m, well, I’m, oh my God, why is this so haaard?”

“Oh, my God. Are you a dyke?”

You make a pained noise, like you’ve just been punched in the stomach.

“Shiiit, is that, like, non-PC, can we not say that anymore?” Stacey replies, hands flying to mouth in horror.

“Preference… not everyone likes that word. Me, I don’t mind it, yes, I am a dyke – well, butch lesbian, dyke, soft butch… whatever. Erin’s more femme, definitely _not_ a lipstick lesbian – that’s, like, Portia de Rossi. But Erin does wear more makeup than I do … I’m more Ellen DeGeneres. But, yeah, no, Erin doesn’t like the word ‘dyke’ … aaand, I’ve said three times. Sorry, baby.”

She bristles each time.

“ _She doesn’t like me saying the word ‘cunt’ either_.” You whisper behind your hand. Dani snorts. Erin rolls her eyes.

“I fucking love that word, man. And ‘pussy’.”

“Ha, me too!” you high five; your pills have kicked in, so now you’re a bit less zombie, and a bit more, well, human.

“But, yes, Stacey, I am a queer. Actually … I, er ...” she pauses, biting her lips; picking the skin off them, until they bleed. She licks away the patches of blood and looks at you – searching for some assistance. “I, er …” she whispers to you. “ _I need your help, man, I’ve not told anyone this before, and I’m scared to.”_

_“Hey, hey, what’s up, Dani. Come on, tell me.”_

_“I’m, er, I’m, I, I, I…”_ she looks down at her Converse and scuffs them on the concrete. _“Okay, I’ve not told anyone this before, okay, so, er, be gentle; I dunno, that’s a thing people say, right?”_

_“Go on, you can tell me anything. I’m really chill, girl.”_

_“I, er, I think I’m gay, I’m not sure.”_

_“Do you want me to tell Stacey?”_

_“Uhm, just say that I’m questioning, for now. And we’ll figure it out some point, over a beer, maybe, but definitely not weed!”_

_“Sounds like a good plan, sweetie.”_ You let her go, having whispered all of this into her ear and kiss her cheek. Erin frowns at you, but you just shrug. (You’ll tell her later.)

“Okay, so Stacey, let’s just make things clear, yeah?”

“What’s that?”

“Dani’s not gonna be hanging around with you any longer, and she wants you to know that she’s questioning, okay, so no more boys, capisce?”

“Yeeeah, I guess, but why can’t we be friends?”

“Because, I’m fed up of your heteronormative bull. You keep pushing for everyone to be, let’s face it, white trash like you, and I’m fucking fed up of it. So you can shove that up your ass and smoke it.”

Yours and Erin’s mouths drop, eyes wide.

“Get in the car.”

Abby pulls the door handle from the inside and pushes it open, before scooting over to the middle.

“Abs, put the kid in the middle; gotta protect her.”

“Oh, yeah, good plan.” Abby replies. She gets out, but Dani holds steadfast, tugging on your sleeve.

_“Can we go for a walk, just the two of us?”_

_“Yeah, sure.”_ You return to your normal voice. “One sec, guys, Dani just wants a chat. You cool with that, Er-bear?”

“Sure, why would I not be?”

“Uhm, cos you looked at me funny when I gave her a friendly cheek-kiss; like ‘no homo’.” You say, laughing.

“It’s fine, I was confused, but I’m not mad. Go, go for a walk, we’ll be waiting.”

“Thanks, babes.” You pull the front of Erin’s top and kiss her full on the lips, before slightly pushing her away, nodding at Dani and walking down the street with her.

Once you’re out of ear shot and around the corner, you break the silence. “What’s up, chuck?”

“I’m way in over my head.”

“How so?”

“Cos I have a mega crush on someone, but they’re with someone else, and I really can’t help it… I’m trying to push my feelings down, and I really, _really_ can’t and I just want to scream.”

“Oof, heavy, I’ve been there.”

“Okay, don’t be mad.”

“Why would I be—?”

“I have a crush on you.” She blurts out.

“Ahhhh, okaaay…” you grimace at her. “Since when?”

“Since I first met you, is that bad?”

“No, not at all, just you know I’m married, and you’re a kid, so…”

“And that kiss, well, heh, okay I kinda _did_ want to kiss you, but it was also an accident, and I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for it to happen, but like I wanted it to, but, oh, God, I’m sorry, please don’t yell at me.”

You frown, and cock your head to one side. “Why would I yell?”

“Because I wanted to kiss you, even though you’re married?”

“Okay, that’s a little _awkward_ , but also accidental, so I don’t think it matters too much. Don’t worry about it, and just don’t mention it in front of Erin, yeah?”

“Oh, God, no, I wouldn’t. I’m actually very, _very_ good at keeping secrets. I promise – cross my heart, hope to die… and all that.”

“I’m not sure that’s necessary, but whatever floats your boat. I think we just need to find you a girl … wait, it is a girl, or are you bisexual?”

“No, I don’t like boys. _That’s_ one thing I’m certain of.”

“Okay, so a girl… anyone your age, who’s also gay?”

“Not that I know of.” Dani shrugs.

“I don’t normally suggest this, but dating sites?”

“Urgh, no. They’re fakers. Been there, done that. Tinder is the worst!”

“Lesbian dating apps? Have you tried ‘Her’?”

“Ooh, no, I shall try that one.”

Just then a cute, brunette walks around the corner, wearing a Raglan tee with her sleeves rolled, also wearing shades and a Snapback.

_“She’s definitely gay.”_

_“How can you tell?”_

_“My Gaydar pinged… Go say hi…”_

_“No, not randomly on the street!”_

“Hey!” you cry.

The girl looks up and points at herself. You do the chin nod and beckon her over.

“Hey?” she asks, feeling a bit uncomfortable.

“Love your shirt, mate. And, wait, are those Limited Edition Toy Story Converse?” you ask, excitably, looking down at her shoes.

“Yes! Oh, my God. How did you know?”

“I have a good eye for quirky fashion items…” you gesture at yourself.

“Yeah, oh cool necklace!” she says, noticing your U with a screw through it – your ‘Screw U’ necklace – around your neck.

“So, hey, uh, this is my friend Dani. She thinks you’re cute. Okay, baaaaaiiii.” And with that, you wander around the corner, and leave them to talk. You haven’t gone far and you eavesdrop on the conversation.

“Oh, my God, I’m so sorry about her. That was…”

“You think I’m cute?”

“Uhhhh… yeah, I… Yeah. Hi, Dani.”

“Hi, Sophie.” They shake hands.

“I love that name.”

“Thanks, I got it for my birthday.”

Around the corner, you giggle to yourself: cute and cheesy jokes – a girl like you.

“So, er, what do you do?”

“Me? I’m an artist – well, actually I’m studying to be a cartoonist.”

“Oh, wow. That’s neat. I’m a dancer, and I’m actually studying photography.”

“Oh, that’s so cool. Maybe you should dance for me sometime.”

Dani chuckles awkwardly. “Yeah, sure, that could work. Uh, hey, do you want--?”

“Your number? Absolutely!”

Dani gives out her number and Sophie drop calls it. They talk in depth for a full five minutes more and then Sophie asks Dani to meet up again. “So, what’re you doing at the weekend?”

“No official plans, why?”

“Wanna grab a coffee, or tea, or whatever you drink, with me?”

“I’d love that. Iced coffee?”

“Omg, yes!”

“Salted caramel!” they say in unison.

“Then it’s a date.” Sophie says, before giving Dani an impromptu kiss on the cheek and waving goodbye.

Dani rounds the corner, blinking rapidly, completely stunned.

“HAHA! Yes girl! Wow, shit, you got a date in less than 10 minutes. Fuck me, I’m impressed. Took me months to get my woman.”

“Uh, thanks, I guess?”

You wink at her. “C’mon, let’s get these grumps back before they start whinging how tired they are.” You yawn big. “Oh. Shit. I’m tired.”

“Are you okay to drive?”

You hum for a while. “Possibly.”

“Tiredness kills.”

“I’m not _that_ tired.”

She hands you a can of Original flavour Monster. “Get that down your neck.”

“Too much sugar.”

“I’ll split it with you. I’ve not slept properly in three days. Stacey snores like a train engine.”

You snort, take the can off her, and crack open the top with the ring-pull and down a quarter of the 500ml can.

“Oh. Maybe you should slow— It’s fine.” She says, nodding quickly.

You belch loudly, without apologising, whoop even louder and drag her back to the car. Opening the back door, you wait for her to get in before getting in the driver’s seat.

Dani gets in, shuffles over, practically sitting on Patty’s lap so she can belt up, and help Abby with hers and then, your door’s shut, the car is in reverse, and you’re backing off down the street.

You begin humming to yourself, as you drive down the street, but then suddenly the taurine, caffeine and sugar of the Monster Energy Drink hits you, and without realising it, you’re accelerating.

“Holtz, you’re going a little too fast and we don’t have the sirens on?” Erin says, patting your knee.

“That’s funny, I didn’t realise. Sorry.” You slow down again, and then the verbal-diarrhoea begins. “Okay, so I’m just gonna tell you that that was, like, a really fun bust, but also rather disturbing how Slimer is back, cos I mean, like, we banished him into the Ghostworld through the portal, so the fact that he is back is really, really, like, concerning, and, like, I’m gonna have to do some more research, because if the total Protonic reversal sucked everything into the portal, then surely, it could spit it back out again, and I’m worried that all the ghosts we banished, are gonna return, especially the ones we sent to Michigan, and I don’t really wanna be dealing with Michigan ghosts on top of, like, Yankee ghosts and to be honest, I doubt you three would also want to be dealing with them, cos I mean, we might have to get the bazooka involved, and that’s gonna cause a shit tonne of damage, and like, that would totally not be okay, because we could potentially kill people and, like, I don’t want that to happen… am I talking out loud? I’m talking out loud! Oh, shit, okay, haha, lab stuff… Me, myself and I… Yes, that’ll work; close the door, retro headphones on and zooooone ooooout! Hey, so, um, guys, you know how everything around us moves so fast that we can’t feel it? Well, here’s a funny thing, I feel, like, _everything,_ my heartbeat, my breathing, the molecules in this car, how we’re technically not even sitting on the seats because of the atoms; I mean, they’re miniscule, right, but they’re there, and everything is so fascinating and Science is fascinating, and did you know that the chemicals in our brains help us to react to, and see, different elements of the world, but that each individual sees it differently and… is it hot in here? Like, I’m really, _really_ hot… okay, so that’s the window and… aha! Science, bitch! Yes, so, yeah, ghosts. They’re like so annoying when they’re malevolent; I prefer the young ones, like, no, not age, like the young classifications, like the ones and twos, cos you literally just say bye-bye and they go and it’s great because we don’t even have to use our Packs, but I like zapping ghosts with the Proton Stream, cos I love the red and the blue lightning it produces, well, no, not lightning, but that’s like the best I can explain… but the class sixes and sevens, like Lord Jesus, it’s like they’re intent on killing _us_ and I really don’t like that idea, because, I mean, you guys mean a lot to me and I love you like so, so, so, so much, because Physics is the study of the movement of bodies in space, and it can unlock the mysteries of the Universe, but it cannot answer the essential question of what is our purpose here, and, to me, the purpose of life is to love, and to love is what you have shown me. I didn't think that I would ever really have a friend until I met Abby, and then I feel like I have a family of my own. And, now, I really do have my own family, because I have my wife and my, our, _our_ daughter, fucking Cheetos, I’m a _mom_ , you guys, like, ha! I didn’t ever think that day would come, and it has, it _did_ and I’m so fucking grateful for it and for her, and you guys, and like, eurgh, fuck me, yes, whoo, oh, my God. I feel so aliiiiiive!!!” You suddenly lapse into silence, having missed the wide-eyed looks of worry between the other girls. You haven’t blinked, and you’re sitting uncomfortably upright, leaning right over the steering wheel – a real prairie dog situation.

“Okay, so, what the fuck just happened?” Abby asks.

“Dani, what exactly did you give her?” Erin queries, discontent in her voice.

Dani swallows. “Uh, just, um…”

Erin suddenly begins panicking. “Oh, my God! Did you give her ecstasy or cocaine?!”

“What? No! Okay, so that’s a really mean stereotype. Just because I smoke a little weed, don’t automatically assume that I’m a junkie, okay?!” Dani says sharply.

“No, I wasn’t…” Erin begins.

“I just gave her a Monster Energy Drink. I’m sorry, I didn’t think it would affect her to be honest; not this bad at least. She said she was tired, so I thought it would perk her up.”

“Oh.” Erin sighs.

“Uh, dude, no one is mad here, okay, but for future reference, if Holtzy says she’s tired, do _not_ let her drive, man. Get one of us to, okay, sweetie?”

“Yeah, sorry, I didn’t think it would be bad. I’m sorry.” Dani looks at her feet and Patty pats her knee.

“You’re all good, chick, just for future.”

“Fucking hell, gang. Does anyone else feel a little unsafe with the hyperactive squirrel driving?”

“Uh, yeah, dude, like real unsafe.”

“Holtzy, pull over.” Abby says, leaning forward in her seat.

“I’m fine.”

“No, dude, seriously, pull over.” Patty adds, trying to grab your attention, by tugging at your sleeve.

“No, seriously, _dude,_ I’m fine.”

“Holtz…” Erin begins, calmly.

“Erin…” You say in a monotone.

“Pull over the goddamn car before you get us killed!” Erin screams, frightening you and making you slam on the breaks; horns honking, you switch off the engine and freeze. A painful silence falls. Erin sighs, and you gulp loudly. “I’m sorry I yelled, okay, I’m just frightened that you’re going to kill us in the state that you’re in. Please, my love, please let someone else drive, okay? I love you, so much, and I don’t want you getting any more hurt than you have done, and I don’t want any of my friends getting hurt.”

Even though you’re still wired, you nod your head and unclip your seatbelt.

“I, er, I’ve got too much energy anyway; I think the Monster has fucked with the Adderall, so, I’m gonna go for a run.”

“Holtz… It’s New York, it’s pissing down and you’re in a jumpsuit; not appropriate weather or attire.”

 _“Erin…”_ Abby whispers. _“Let her run, she might burn the excess energy off.”_

_“But it’s over half an hour away.”_

_“Yeah, man, I’m with Abby. Let Holtzy run and if she gets tired, or drains the excess, then she can just call us and we’ll chuck her in the back to sleep.”_

“Do you want me to go as, like, punishment?”

“What, no? Why would you…? Oh, no, honey, no I’m not mad, I promise, I’m just worried for her. I’m sorry I jumped to a really shitty conclusion; I feel bad.”

“Well, it did hurt, but I forgive you.”

“Thanks. Okay, honey, Holtzy, baby…”

“Hmmm?” you say, snapping back down from your astral plain.

“Go on, go for a run. Call us when you’re tired. Do you have your phone?”

“Yeees…” you say rudely; like a defiant teenager.

“Okay, cop the attitude, but please show me, so I know you have it…”

You point to Erin’s door. “Oh, it’s there.”

“Oh, so it is. Sorry.” She hands it, and her Swiss Army Knife… (“No woman should walk around unarmed” she remarks) to you and you put the phone in your right thigh pocket and do up the button, before putting the Swiss Army Knife in your left thigh pocket and also buttoning it up. You get out of the car, actually _close_ the door, instead of your usual slam and run in the direction you were travelling. Abby gets out and jumps in behind the steering wheel; adjusting the seat and mirror for her use.


	50. Chapter 48

As you run you can feel the blood rushing through your veins – it’s an odd feeling; a mix of excitement and of worry, because you’re not supposed to _feel_ the blood rushing; just that you know it’s happening. Your mind begins to clear and you try and concentrate on your breathing, despite the clutter in your mind.

 _“Okay, so Slimer was back… That’s a really bad sign. So what if my theory on astral projection – wait, no, that was a dream, Holtzy, get it together … My theory on Black Slime Portals is actually legitimate; should I be worried? Probably. Is there any proof that Black Slime exists? Well, except for the small amount left by Eleanor Twitty, it is an insubstantial amount, ergo, nothing to worry about. Okay, but what if … and yet … but that wouldn’t … seriously, Holtzy, get it the fuck together. You’re probably worrying about nothing. Ah, yes, but worrying is good, because it gets you experimenting. Yes, that’s true, but without evidence of said Black Slime, then how am I supposed to conduct any experiments on it? Was_ _there any Black Slime surrounding Slimer? No, just his usual green goop … Although, now you mention it… Oh, shit… There was some dark primordial ooze around the buses; but you thought it was a shadow, so thought little of it… But, now, come to think…”_ You interrupt your own thoughts by speaking aloud. “Shit!” a couple of people walking along the pavement look at you. “I have to warn the others.” You stop running; suddenly sobered up and back to your hyper-but-not-hyperactive-squirrel-acting-like-she’s-on-drugs state and pull out your phone. You speed dial her and then pace impatiently, until she answers.

“I didn’t get far, but we have to get back to the Transit Museum. Now.”

 _“It’ll be closing.”_ She says down the line.

“I don’t care; there was some black ooze by the buses…”

_“So?”_

“Whaddaya mean ‘so’? _Black Slime_ , Erin… my theory on Black Slime. It’s happening already. Come get me.”

_“Babe, we’re in heavy traffic; fucking rush hour. You’ll have to come to us. Where are you?”_

“Uhhh… according to Google Maps, Livingston Street.”

_“Okay, well we’re in by the Barclays Centre, just before 6 th Avenue. Turn right on to Nevins Street, turn left on Atlantic Avenue, and then you can’t miss us.”_

“But if you’re in heavy traffic, how are you gonna get back to the Transit Museum?”

_“We aren’t, you are… You are okay now, right?”_

“I mean, mostly no…”

_“I meant from the Monster.”_

“Oh, yeah, yeah, cool. Okay, well, anyone got a vial or something?”

Erin asks the car.

“Oh! I have my Vape. It needs refilling anyway.” Dani exclaims.

_“Uh, we have a vape.”_

“No… I mean, it _might_ work, but it can never, ever be used again.” Erin relays the information.

_“Then no.”_

“Any pharmacies open?”

_“Uh, lemme consult Google… Oh, I’m dumb. There’s a CVS right here, and yup, it’s open.”_

You hear the car door open and close and Erin crosses in between the stand-still traffic. The bell above the door, jingles in your ear and you hear her asking for an empty vial or some sort of container. The pharmacist tells her they had just washed one and put it in the recycling (conveniently timed) and so she rescues it and leaves again. The car door opens and closes again and then she addresses you. _“Salvaged one. You nearly here?”_

“Oh now you _want_ me to run? Oh, okay.” You begin running again, but struggle to maintain a conversation as you’re sprinting hard. “I…will…see…you…in…fuck me…ow! Stitch… Fuck! … inabit.” You gasp out the last word and hang up, your face screwed in pain.

You sprint down the street, boots banging on the concrete, a fire in your side from the stitch and a tight feeling in your chest – you realise that you probably should start running, or go back to the gym, again. You stick your hand out and grab a sign pole, swinging yourself around it and into Nevins Street. You release the pole as your feel your shoulder muscle tug and weave in and out of people. Now you have a stitch, a tight chest _and_ a sore shoulder; you pray to God you don’t fall over.

Too late.

You slip, cartoon style, on a banana peel (of course there’s a damn banana peel!) and land, hard on your coccyx, you groan in pain and lie down on the concrete gathering your breath, waiting for the pain to dissipate. A shop keeper, who was sweeping the street just in front of you, drops his broom and runs to you aid.

“Oh, my goodness, are you okay, my love?”

“No…” you groan. You lie there, letting the cold sink into your clothes, until your phone rings. “Hello?” you enquire, still lying down. “Oh, hey. Yeah, I just slipped over. I’m good. Yeah, yeah, I’m sitting up now … uh-huh, no, I’m cool. Yeah, alright, be there soon.” You hoist yourself to your feet, with the help of the shopkeeper. And begin to hobble off down the street, your coccyx feeling incredibly bruised. You walk down Atlantic Avenue, trying to spot the Hydrogen Tanks atop the Ecto – surprisingly, you can’t see them over the roofs of all the cars, so you keep on walking on the left, looking to the right, until you spot the familiar white body of the car. Spotting it, you let the cars speed on this side, before meandering through the standstill traffic. When you arrive, you notice that the hazard lights are on, but a Mini Cooper has stopped right by the driver’s door. You stand there, hands on hips and sigh. Looks like you’re gonna have to get in on Erin’s side. You walk in front of the Mini and around to the passenger side, flipping off Erin in the process, because she shakes her head at you and taps her watch.

When you reach the passenger’s side door, you point at her and then indicate over your right shoulder with your thumb. And then you open the door and tell her what you just indicated anyway. “Shift out, I need to climb across. Please.” You add delayed.

She gets out and you slide over, almost sitting on the gear stick, but managing to heft yourself into the leather seats. You land too heavy on your bruised tailbone and wince, before groaning in pain.

“Man, you okay?” Patty asks as you swing your legs into the foot-well.

“Landed on my ass; slipped on a damn banana skin. Like, why would that even be on the street? Urgh, New York.”

“Ow, that sounds painful.” Dani muses.

“Yeah, just a tad.” You whimper and pull puppy-dog eyes as Erin gets in the car.

“What’s wrong with you?”

“I got a booboo.” You say sadly, pouting all the while.

“And what do you want me to do about it?”

“Rub it better?” you offer, before giving a silly grin. “I _was_ gonna suggest a kiss, but it’s an inappropriate place.”

“Where is this apparent ‘booboo’?”

“My coccyx.”

“Yeah, I ain’t kissing that.”

“Not the first time…”

Erin flushes red and Dani scoffs happily. “Waaaaaay!!” she yells.

“Great, now they know.” She rolls her eyes and sighs as you snort.

You take the car out of neutral and put it into gear, lightly revving your engine, trying to indicate that you want to move.

“Babe, not to steal your thunder, but we already tried that, you’ll have to put the sirens on.”

You look at her with mock surprise. “Wait, I can put the sirens on?” you ask, sarcastically. “I can put them on and we’re not on duty?”

“Yes.” Erin replies dryly.

“HA!” You flick the sirens on and wait for people to try and move. You’re unaware of the road works ahead, but people, upon hearing a siren, scrabble to get out of the way, irrespective of the room, or lack thereof, and soon, you have some sort of path through the cars. Granted the cars have pulled up to the pavement, but you have just enough room to _squeeze_ between the mini and a Range Rover, leaving millimetres on each side. You drive forward a bit, turn the wheel, reverse a little and try again. “Oh, my God, this is gonna be like a 50-point turn at this rate. Come oooonnn! Moooove!!” you say frustrated.

At last, there is a clearing and you squeeze past the Mini and the Range Rover at a diagonal, before pressing on, at a snail’s pace between the cars. You grab the Police Radio, which is attached to the loud speaker and press the side. Your voice, which is quiet in the car, echoes through the speaker on the roof. “GUYS, I NEED YOU TO ALL MOVE OUT OF THE WAY, IF YOU CAN, BECAUSE WE NEED TO GET THROUGH TO SAVE YOUR ASSES FROM THE PARANORMAL. I DON’T CARE IF YOU SIT IN THE YELLOW BOX IN THE INTERSECTION, JUST MOVE. THANK YOU!” The radio squeaks off and people actually block the intersection to allow you through. The builders digging up the road remove their hats, and watch you crawl past at 20mph. You indicate left to go the long way around, and people continue moving out of your way until you’re moving at the speed limit of 50mph.

Erin is finally happy that you’re sticking to the speed limit, but this time, for the first time, she urges you to go faster. “Babe, if you wanna get there before it closes, you might wanna move a lil faster.”

You chuckle at this permission and step on the accelerator: “And we’re on the gas.” You remark. The engine growls and the wheels squeal on the tarmac as you head back to the New York Transit Museum. Driving erratically is a nasty habit of yours, but this time you drive carefully on account of the fact of having a teenager in the backseat. You slow down before the corners and actually keep in a straight line. Erin gives you a side-eye.

“Okay, what’s up, you’re driving like a human…Normally, you’re swinging around corners, and weaving between the cars. You’re driving is shocking every day.”

“Yeah, but did you die?”

“No, but…”

“Then it’s fine. I’ve got a minor in the car; I’m not driving like a loon.”

“So you don’t mind driving like a loon when we’re in the car, because we’re adults?”

“Yup. Your bodies have fully developed. Kid’s got until 21, and then she’s good.”

“You worry me.”

“Good; keeps you on your toes, cupcake.”

“You’re a dickhead.”

“I’m your dickhead, though, so shurrup. Love you.”

“Uh-huh.” Erin mutters.

You frown and pout. “Uh-uh, say it back.” You whine.

Erin rolls her eyes.

You frown harder.

“You know I do.”

“But I like hearing it.”

“Fine. Love you.”

“Like you mean it, you asswipe.”

Erin chuckles. “Wow, you’re really selling it; dickhead.”

“Prick.”

“Cock.”

“Assbutt.”

“Cheeto.”

“Dorito.”

“Cheeseburger.”

“Salty Parabola.”

“Twerp.”

“Ooh, good one… Uh, shit… I’ve only got the one and no-one likes it… Ooh, no… Pussy, and it’s mine.”

“HOLTZ!” Erin shrieks, before back-hand slapping the side of your thigh.

You chuckle evilly and continue concentrate on the road ahead.

“You’re such a little shit, but that’s why I love you, sugar. You’re my forever.”

The girls mock-gag in the back.

“HOMO. ALL THE HOMO LOVE.” You yell.

“That doesn’t even make sense, dude.” Patty replies.

“It makes perfect sense. You’re just not keeping up.”

“Sure, man, okay, whatever.” She replies, before giggling.

You pull up outside the Transit Museum and yank the handbrake on, so it makes a grinding noise. Throwing your seatbelt off, you ask Erin for the vial, she hands it to you and you consider it for a moment, before tilting your head, jutting out your bottom lip and ‘hmming’.

“That was the best I could get.”

“It’s fine, plenty big enough for a sample. Right, ladies, gear up, we’ve got work to do.” You unwind the window and steal Erin’s water bottle again, throwing it at Dani. You shut the door and the other colleagues follow.

“Yo, man, are you seriously leaving Dani in the car like a dog?”

“What? I cracked the window and gave her water.” You reply, shrugging.

“Holtz, hon, she’s a kid, you can’t keep her in the car.”

“She can’t come; our insurance policy doesn’t cover minors – under 21s – and I have a feeling that Kevin will kill me if I get her killed. And then you’ll kill me for killing her.”

Dani defiantly gets out of the car and slams the door. “I’m coming.”

“You’re not.” You say sternly. “You might get killed and then you won’t be able to go on that date of yours, you’re welcome, by the way, and then that girl will be upset.”

“Wait, Dani has a date?” Abby asks. “Is that where you went, to stalk girls?”

“No, we went to talk, a cutie happened to walk past, I set them up.”

“That’s really sweet.” Erin says, patting Dani’s arm. “What’s her name?”

“Sophie, she’s, uh, 21, but that’s cool right?”

“I’m not your Mom… Do what you want, bud.” You say, shrugging again.

“Be careful, Dani, but good for you, hope it works out okay.” Erin says, elbowing you. “Wow, you’re so encouraging. You gonna be like this with Jane?”

“Hell, no. She ain’t dating until she’s 21!”

“Huh! Really? So our own kid can’t date until she’s an adult, but you’re happy for someone else’s kids to date as a teenager?”

“Fine, she can start dating at 18, no, wait, 16… That good?”

“We’ll talk about it at another date, we’ve got work to do. Aaaand, it looks like it’s closed.”

“Not for us, it ain’t. Yo, Dani, you can come, but, just, keep 50ft back, yeah?”

“That’s what the car says.”

“Yeah, and it’s a good non-injury distance.”

Dani sighs and leaves her backpack in the car.

“I _would_ say, chuck in the boot, but there’s windows in the entire car, so maybe bring your bag, just in case. Don’t want any smashed windows.”

“Holtzmann, we’re not in a bad neighbourhood.” Dani giggles.

You make a strange noise and shake your head, before groaning in your throat.

“What’s up with you?”

“I miss being Holtzmann.”

“Are you not still Holtzmann; isn’t Erin now Erin Holtzmann?”

“Ha! I wish. No…” you kiss Erin’s cheek. “We’re Mrs and Mrs Holtzbert… Di-did we _not_ tell you that?”

“I wasn’t at the wedding…”

“Wait, who was at the wedding?” you ask, shoulders hunched, neck wound in, brows furrowed, mouth slightly agape.

“Kevin, Abby and Patty, both our parents, and some old Columbia University and Kenneth P. Higgins lecturers and professors.”

“Ohh. Yeeeah. I remember; I’ve slept since then, believe it or not!” You yank open the backdoor of the Ecto and drag out the gurney, with your Packs, lined neatly in twos. You grab yours and wait for the others to grab theirs.

“Hey, dude?” Dani asks, having followed you to the rear of the vehicle.

“Mhm?”

“How do you know which one is yours, they all look the same?”

“Accent stickers.”

“Huh?”

Well, Mark II had stickers on them and initially these Mark IIIs didn’t, but I manage to buy some online, so here we have the stickers. Abby’s has a ‘High-Level Sealed-Source Ionizing Radiation Symbol’ and the red ‘Ionizing Radiation Trefoil Symbol’ here and here…” you point to them on Abby’s Pack as she lifts it from the left-hand side of the gurney. “Patty’s…” Patty grabs the one behind it. “got the ‘Biological Hazard Symbol’ here…” you point to the sticker on the back of her Pack. “And the ‘Poison Symbol’ here on the side.” Dani raises her eyebrows. “Erin, only has the one accent sticker and it’s this one – the ‘Danger of Death Symbol’.” Erin swings the Pack on to her back, nearly hitting the door. “Careful, honey!” She looks apologetic, and you shake your head. “And me, well, this is my favourite… I made this, yano… This is custom made… It’s the ‘International Ionizing Radiation Trefoil Symbol’ which is obviously different to Abby’s, and then I added the ‘Heart Symbol’ inside it, cos I love Nuclear Engineering, and well, anything Radioactive.” You chuckle awkwardly.

“You’re such a nerd.” Dani says chuckling and watching you launch it onto your back and clip it around your middle.

“Also, these…” you say, ignoring her remark. You tap the sides of your Pack and Dani notices what looks like little doors, with wire mesh in the middle, welded into the sides, in the large rectangular box, below the DLA Device, and Faraday Cage.

“What are they for?”

You move to a space to demonstrate. “I’ll advise you all to stand back…” You flick one of the toggle switches to change the setting from Ghost Trap to Proton Pistols and then swipe your right hand over the surface of the LCD screen. You step back and place both hands, open, by your sides. The little doors flap open, and two Proton Pistols fly out, at a diagonal angle. They are seated in square metal holsters, attached by a nut and bolt to another piece of metal, allowing for pivotal movement. You grab the pistols, attached to wires, which are linked to the inside of the Pack and the UART, and swing them out in front of you and you let the girls look at them, close up.

“Okay, dude, that was pretty cool.”

“I know right? Now, imagine that, surrounded by ghosts in the middle of Times Square, with like a 50ft ghost towering over you and you’ve got to save your ass, after saving the girls’ asses and try not to get trampled on by a Class V – which is probably possible – it’s pretty fucking badass … I think that was the time Erin fell in love with me.” She blushes; it was true.

“I will admit, yes, I was attracted to you then… You referred to them as your ‘toys’ which was cute.”

“They are my toys…”

“Honey, they’re weapons, they’re not toys. ‘ _LEGO’_ is a toy.”

“Shush.” You release the guns and the self-retract back into the Pack, and the doors flap shut.

“Okay, now _that_ was sick! How in God’s name did you get them to go back in like that.”

“Science.” You simply say, throwing a wink in Dani’s direction, before kissing Erin’s nose and bounding across the street.

In less time than it took you to cross it, which you don’t understand how that’s possible given the width of the road, Patty joins you at the curb-side. You straighten up and wind your neck in again. “How did you get here so fast?”

“Long legs.” She winks at you; a first. You wander down the steps, which look like they lead down into the subway and stop in front of an iron gate at the bottom. You wait for the others to catch up (largely so you can impress them.) You crouch down and inspect the lock. “Just as I thought… back in a tick.” You dash up the stairs and back to the car. Unlocking it, you open the front passenger’s door and root inside the glovebox. Shutting it, and the door, you relock the car and skip over the road. Approaching the top of the stairs, you gallop down them and barge past Abby and Erin. Crouching again, you adjust your bottle-cap glasses so they’re sat on your face (you had pushed them atop your head at some point, but alas you can’t remember when, or why for that matter) and pull the lock-pick out of your pocket. You jiggle it backwards and forwards, rotating it slightly to the right, and then to the left, and then to the right again, a little farther than before until you hear a small _click_ and the gate swings open against the incline of the steps. You repocket the tool and open the gate fully, before wandering down, whistling the ‘Harry Potter’ tune, to appear magical.

“Of course you know how to pick a lock.” Erin says, shocked and a little exasperated.

“I have my reasons.” You quip, wandering into the large chamber. You wander off ahead, stopping by the buses, including the cut-out bus, which shows the frame work and seats, without the sides or top. To your right, in the corner, is now an enormous, sluggishly spreading, oozing black goop… Black Slime. Your eyes widen in horror.

Coming to a halt behind you, the girls’ mouths drop, they too can see the spreading ooze and all are worried about its existence and what it actually is.

“What the shit is that?” Dani asks, breaking the silence and making you jump.

“That’s the shit we’ve come for.” You say, stepping forwards. You keep your eyes on the floor, to avoid stepping in it and pull out the little vial. Unscrewing the cap, you kneel down and prepare to lower the container to the bubbling surface.

“Uhh, Holtz?” Abby asks?

“Yuh-huh?”

“Didn’t you get some of this after we encountered Eleanor Twitty?”

“Did I…” you think for a minute, your face screwed up and your tongue poking out the corner of your mouth. Your face relaxes as it dawns on you that you have indeed already collected a sample, but where that actually was, is anybody’s guess. “N-n-nope…” you lie.

“ _You_ are a liar.” Abby jibes.

“You’ve lost the first sample, haven’t you?” Erin asks, sighing loudly.

“It w- it w- it w- it was a _middle_ tier priority… It, it wasn’t that, that, _that_ important.”

Erin narrows her eyes at you. “You know that you stutter when you’re really nervous about something _and_ when you’re lying?”

“D-d-do I?”

“Yup. So, Holtz, where’s the first sample?” Erin asks, folding her arms, and looking at you with one eyebrow raised.

“In, in, in the lab?” you say, making it sound like a question.

Erin glares at you, arms folded still.

“ _I lost it.”_ You say in a small voice, before swallowing.

“Say that again, I missed that.” Erin replies, having heard exactly what you said, but wanting you to repeat yourself anyway.

“ _I-I lo-lost it…”_ You smirk guiltily.

“I _thought_ that’s what you said.” Erin grabs the belt around your middle and pulls you an inch from her face. She lowers her head and stares into your eyes. You’re not sure if she’s going to headbutt you or kiss you, so you avoid eye contact and shift your weight between each foot, nervously. You realise that 4 pairs of eyes are looking at you and your throat goes dry and begins to close up. You start swallowing rapidly, and the air gets pushed out in short bursts. You manage to stop swallowing, but now you’re breathing in sharply through your nose, in quick succession and it is evident that you’re starting to have a panic attack; you hate close proximity confrontation, and it starts making you sweat.

Without even meaning to, you start hyperventilating through your nose and you start to get lightheaded and Erin becomes acutely aware of your body language and disposition. You wipe the sweat from your brow with the one hand and then rub the sweat from the back on your neck; it helps none and you feel cold sweat trickling down the nape of your neck and into your shirt. You close your eyes, trying to control your breathing, but you begin swaying, still hyperventilating. Erin lets go and you lurch back. She immediately grabs your belt to stop you from toppling over and then, noticing your pale face, carefully unclips your Proton Pack, placing it on the floor, before pulling you in for a tight cuddle.

Abby and Patty remain silent, having seen this many times before, and Dani sits on the floor, cross-legged, trying not to make things worse. She plays with her laces as Erin helps you to the floor; you’re still breathing heavily and your heart is still pounding.

“Okay then, sweetie, let’s get some of these layers off, cool you down.”

You nod and remove your gloves, before bringing one foot up to untie your laces.

“Maybe keep the boots on.”

You nod and redo the lace. Unbuttoning your jumpsuit, you start to pull it off forgetting about the UART. You sigh and pull it off, dumping it on the floor, rather recklessly. Eventually you get the jumpsuit down to your waist, and you sit there in your tank top, cooling down. Erin kneels down in front of you and holds your face in your hands. She looks into your eyes, and you see the usual glint of love. A smile spreads across your face – somehow she manages to make you panic and calm you down in equal measure. She places her knees either side of your legs, so she’s straddling you, but with her butt raised, so it doesn’t look quite as sexual as it probably would do otherwise, and makes out with you, right there, in the closed Transit Museum. Abby and Patty do their usual looking away routine, and Dani remains transfixed on the pair of you. You feel her eyes boring into you both and you pull away from Erin and look over her right shoulder.

“You’ll be doing this soon, kiddo.”

“Heh.” She does an uncomfortable gay laugh, very similar to your own and you tilt your head to one side.

“What’s ‘heh’ about?”

“ _Um, I don’t know how._ ” She says in a small voice.

“Whaaat?” you say, eyes wide, mouth open.

“I’ve never kissed anyone, okay.” She says, sulking.

“What, not even a peck?” Realising that is probably a dangerous question to ask, harking back to what happened in the woods.

“Accidentally, but not with any intention, or feelings attached.” She says, starting out with the truth and then bending it a little. You gulp, a little too loud than you anticipated and Erin shoots off your lap.

“What.happened?” she demands.

You avoid eye contact.

“Jillian Holtzmann.” She full names you, with your original name; you know you’re in trouble.

You close your eyes, and screw up your face. Heart racing and sweating again, you spit out the words, without breathing.

“InearlyfelloverabranchsoDanigrabbedmeandpulledmeinandweaccidentallykissedlikeitwasatotalaccidentandwewerebothshockedbyitandI’msorryIdidn’ttellyouIdidn’twantyougettingmad. Oh, fuck.” You say, wiping your nose, and realising it’s bleeding from the stress.

“What?!”

“After Patty and Holtz had the mud fight, Holtz ran off into the woods, so I chased her to calm her down, with, yano, the weed, and as I called her, she moved so fast that her foot got caught on a branch, so I grabbed her to stop her falling and we accidentally… kissed… on the lips… I was so shocked that I apologised profusely and she was so dumbfounded. We didn’t speak of it, because it was a total accident.”

“Is this true? Holtz?”

Still pinching your nose, you nod slowly and watch her inhale sharply, twist on her heel and stomp off towards the stairs. You get up hurriedly and release your nose, letting it free-bleed. “Babe, I don’t know what you want me to say, I swear on my life that it _was_ an _accident._ Babe, I’m sorry, I didn’t think it was important to tell you as it wasn’t deliberate, but I feel like no matter what I say, or how many times I apologise, you’re not gonna believe me, but I’m telling you the _truth._ Just _please_ don’t divorce me over something so silly. We _have_ to talk about it.”

Erin considers for a moment then continues walking. You close your eyes, to stop the tears threatening to run down your cheeks. You clench your jaw and look about you for something viable to attack, out of anger, frustration and discontent.

You start hitting yourself in the head, and consider it to be too painful and you don’t want _another_ concussion, so you wander over to where you were sat, and punch the pillar as hard as you can, repeatedly, until your knuckles are bruised, bloody and swollen. Leaving blood splatters on the pillar, and droplets of blood from your nose on the tiles, you wander over to the nearest train, teeth gritted, nostrils flaring, and punch that instead, ignoring the searing pain in your hand. You bring your arm back quite far, and slam your fist into the metalwork, taking your anger, frustration, sadness and tiredness out on its surface. The _thud_ of bone on metal, echoes around the room, and there is an audible _crunch_. As soon as your knuckles come into contact with the steel, you cry out in pain and clutch your hand in between your legs; you’ve done substantial damage, and you’re convinced that one of your knuckles is now broken.

You stand there, shaking, and breathing heavy, nose gushing blood from the stress, and knuckles bleeding from the blunt-force trauma, and then you start crying; in pain, and because you’re worried about your future.

Is it over between you and Erin?

You don’t know and she still hasn’t returned, but Patty has disappeared to talk to her, and Abby has come over to provide some medical assistance. The pain is too much to handle and you collapse to the floor, having blacked out. For the umpteenth time this decade.


	51. Chapter 49

“So I managed to talk some sense into Erin, she’s not gonna leave you dude, she just needed a breather… there’s bad juju in this place… Oh, fuck, what’s happened?”

“I dunno, she literally just passed out on me. I saw her going, so I caught her and helped her to the floor. Don’t want a fourth concussion; I hear if you have four or more, you’re more likely to be in a coma.”

“Man, don’t say that. I don’t wanna lose Holtzy.”

“Neither do…” Erin’s voice echoes down the stairs, in response to Patty. She takes a moment to register the events before her. “SHIT!” Erin races down the steps and knee slides to your side. She notices your fucked up knuckles and sighs sadly. “What the hell happened?” she turns to Abby and looks between her and Patty’s confused expression.

“She went crazy and started hitting things; like, she punched the wall and the train, then she passed out. Oh, she was punching herself in the head too. Why would anyone do that?” Dani says, removing her Snapback to scratch the top of her head, and wandering over from hiding herself inside one of the trains.

“Holtz has Asperger’s, the-the social side of Autism, and her way, her _stupid_ way of taking out anger and frustration is to punch things – mostly objects, but sometimes, and this is what hurts me the most – is herself; it’s a sort of ‘punishment’ for hurting others around her. She told me that she would rather hit herself than accidently hit any of us out of anger or frustration; mainly frustration as she doesn’t anger easily. It really makes me upset knowing that and I’ve witnessed it a few times.” Erin says, thrusting her hands into her jumpsuit pocket.

“Man, that’s only the second time I’ve seen her hit herself. How many times have you seen it, Erin?” Patty asks.

“I don’t want to talk about it, but let’s just say, too many times.” Erin sighs, dejectedly and holds your left hand (the right one being the worse of the two.)

“Stupid question, but were we supposed to stop her, or, like, leave her to it, like the same thing for someone having an epileptic seizure?” Dani asks, shoving her hands into her pocket.

“I think it’s best to leave her, in case we end up on the other end of those fists – and she has a strong punch. I’ve accidentally been caught by a right hook, in the process of trying to stop a head-punch. But it’s okay, it was the back of my hand! Before you start panicking and thinking she’s abusive; absolutely far from it. She very rarely has violent outbursts; it’s just a manifestation of a _lot_ of feelings which she can’t properly process. There’s been a _lot_ of cursing and hitting objects and growling at herself over the years. She’s _much_ better since we had Jane, but occasionally these things happen, and she slips into a mini episode, before crying, apologising and then usually she falls asleep cos she expels a great amount of energy, and her body and brain just go ‘nope’.”

“How do you deal with it?”

“Honestly, the first time it happens, it can be scary…”

“Yeah, I was scared, that’s why I hid in the train.” Dani says, in a small voice, pointing at the train behind her with her thumb over her right shoulder.

“She would _never ever_ intentionally hit someone. As I said, she’d rather hit herself. We try and do breathing exercises, or I cuddle her and rub her back and we make sure that she takes her meds – her antidepressants and her Adderall. I’ve tried Xanax and it worked for a while, but then they didn’t work well with her Adderall; made her nauseous, so I stopped with that.”

“Erin, I don’t want to intrude on your business, but have you considered doing, like, therapy – couple’s therapy? I love you both, so much, but this can’t be easy on you or her. Her especially, because you don’t have to live with this chemical displacement.” Abby asks, shifting her weight as her leg begins to get numb.

This somehow stirs you and you regain consciousness; pain immediately flooding in causing you to yell out; loudly enough to make Abby recoil next to you, Dani to shrink back towards the train, and Erin to cover her ears. Only Patty seems to be unaffected by your volume; perhaps because she can be rather loud herself.

“Oooowwww!!! Fuck! AH, AH, AH… I think I broke something. Owww, oh, my God, kill me. This pain is… Fuuuck. Oh, my God, I feel like I’m in the car crash all over again.” You cry, exaggerating slightly in regards to the latter; although the agonising pain serves as a horrific reminder. You put weight on your right hand to help you get up and you get an unbearable, searing pain into your little finger and you lift it pretty sharpish. “Owww.” You whimper and notice that Erin is back. Your face and voice softens. “You-you came back?” You ask, pulling puppy-dog eyes, before swallowing and looking at her boots.

“From day one I told you I wasn’t going anywhere. This place has got bad vibes, I just needed a breather, but you, missy, what the _fuck_ have you done? Have you been punching inanimate objects again?”

You nod, whimper and cry again; tears streaming and mixing into the blood-stained tank top, which was white. “I didn’t… bring… the First Aid…” you say, between tears.

“You need to be in the hospital.”

“No, definitely not.” You whimper again, and try to look for sympathy from Erin. She caves and comes over to sit you up, enough so Abby can wriggle free. “Why are you under me?” you ask, confused.

“I saw you going, so I ran over, and slid under you, grabbing your head to stop you hitting it.”

“Did I pass out?”

Abby blows air through her nose. “Yeah, think the pain was too much. C’mon, we need to get that phial back to the lab and you to the hospital.”

Dani sidles over and crouches in front of you. “Uh, no offence guys, but they can’t do jackshit about a broken knuckle, best they can do is tape two fingers together and tell you to not use that hand. Which knuckle?”

“The one between the metacarpal and the proximal phalange; well, more accurately, where the deep traverse metacarpal ligament is located.”

“Er, can you speak in layman’s terms?” She queries, pulling a face.

“This one.” You point to the first major knuckle of your little finger.

“Oh, your first knuckle? Shit, man, can’t do fuck all about that, dude. If it was your second or third, they could have taped your pinky to your ring finger, but that one’s attached to your hand, so got nothing to support it. How can you be sure it’s broken and not dislocated?”

“Because…” you sigh, remembering the damage you’ve caused your body. “I’ve dropped things onto my toes, broken my nose, broken three ribs, fractured my skull, popped my eardrum, dislocated my pinky, hairline-fractured said pinky and dislocated my shoulder over the years… _This_ is definitely broken, and I would say _worse_ than a hairline fracture; I know what broken feels like – it’s like this.”

“Jesus, Holtzy, man, how are you alive?” Patty asks, wide-eyed.

“Jesus. That’s how. No other explanation; even science can’t explain this. I’m a walking safety hazard, and a walking miracle. I’ve also had three concussions, and been knocked out like, I guess now, 8 times.”

“Man, that’s bad. That’s a _lot_ of trauma-damage.” Patty adds.

“I know, that’s why I _need_ you guys; especially Erin. Not gonna lie, I probably would have died years ago, if I wasn’t partnered with Abby for a project. I should, in theory, have died in my 20s, but hey, look, I made it to my late 30s, and shit, well, I’m nearly 40, so I’m sure I can manage for another 3 years.”

“Why only three?” Dani asks, perplexed.

“Oh, I’ll be 40 then…”

“Shit, you don’t look it. I would have legit guessed you were like 32.”

“Dude, we met when I was 34 … And you thought I was only 28.”

“I smoked a _lot_ of weed since then; I’ve got a short attention span and a short-term memory; don’t think the ganja helped.”

“No, probably not.”

“At least it helped my anxiety, even if it’s not _technically_ medicinal; for Quentin and his PTSD, yes, for me, ha, I wish!”

You raise a shaky hand, still bleeding and look at it – it’s bruised; deep purple and blue, and the pinky has dropped from the breakage, but is incredibly swollen, and it is still bleeding from where you ripped the skin off on the concrete pillar. Your nose has finally stopping bleeding, and you lick away the blood, which has gathered at your top lip.

“Babe, no, don’t like away the blood from your nose. Ew, that’s gross.” Erin says, gasping in horror.

“I’ve got nothing else.”

“Your tank top – might as well, it’s not white anymore.”

You scoff and gingerly dab your knuckles on the soft cotton surface of your top. Thankfully, you’ve only popped the one knuckle. Erin grabs your wrist and your lock your hands around hers, as best you can.

“This will hurt, because of the pressure of my upwards force. I’m sorry in advance.”

She gives you a tug, to pull you to your feet.

“FUUUUUUUUCK! CUNTING COCKSUCKER!” You say, forgetting the hatred of that word, and a minor in your presence. “The little asshole, Slimer is gonna get what’s coming to him, once I’ve done some in-depth research on the Black Slime.” You say, changing the subject. “Where’s the–?”

Abby pulls the phial out of her left pocket; the side you didn’t land on. Patty picks up your Pack and carries it out the building, whilst you walk, shakily next to Erin. You whisper to her to keep the others from overhearing. _“I, I really am sorry for what happened, it wasn’t intentional. I would never ever cheat on you, you understand that, don’t you?”_

_“I know you wouldn’t, but I thought Snapbacks were your weakness?”_

_“How the hell do you know about that?”_

_“You told me, when drunk, once: Flannels and Snapbacks are your Kryptonite. So, obviously, I panicked that you were attracted to Dani and I freaked out.”_

_“No, God no. I mean, yes she is cute, as far as 19 year olds go, but I would never and could never date someone under 21. You know this; that’s my bottom age limit. And, anyway, just because I like Snapbacks on girls, doesn’t mean that I don’t love_ _what we have – I mean, you and your skirt suits, and the World’s Smallest Bowtie, and the way you have your hair tied up, and the colour of it; and your damn heels, which are so impractical, unless we’re on a bust, and the way you look, really, really fucking sexy in my MIT hoodie, and I love the way your curves show in this jumpsuit and I love the way you smell of coconut, you remembered I smelled your hand that first time, and you now use coconut shampoo, and I love your smile and your eyes and I love the way you taste – your skin, your lips, your pus… you get the point. I only have eyes for you; always have and always will. I’m sorry that I frightened you, but I would never jeopardise what we have; I’m in love with you and in love with what we have and I see no reason to want to let that go, because I would lose you forever, if I did that, and I value your friendship and your love, and your partnership; your companionship and I love being a Mother with you, and you’re so good with Jane, and you’re so good with me, and why would I let that go? I would be foolish if I did let that go – so please believe me when I say, it was accident and I would never chase someone else, when I have my entire world right beside me; you make me a stronger and better person; I know I’m prone to accidents and mistakes, but I’m trying, I…”_

_“I know you’re trying. I was telling the girls that your frustrated violent outbursts are so rare now, and they’ve been even more rare since we had Jane. Today was my fault; I caused this and I’m sorry I hurt you, baby, I really am.”_

_“And I’m sorry too.”_

_“For what?”_

_“Punching my… head, and… things.”_

_“You know how upset I get when I know you punch your head. Thank you for stopping and punching the train. I mean, it could have been the partial bus.”_

_“Then I would have been punching air, plus I didn’t want to accidentally step in the Black Slime, I’m not sure of its properties, yet; I aim to find out.”_

_“And you will, but fix yourself first, before you try to fix the equipment. I order you to take a few days off to heal.”_

_“But I–”_

_“No…”_ Erin stops whispering, not even realising you’re now at the car. “Abby, Patty, agree with me that Holtz needs to take a few days off to heal.”

“Absolutely.” Abby says.

“Yeah, but you know she ain’t gonna sit at home, she’ll be in the laboratory every day.”

“True, but at least we can keep an eye on her.”

“Is anything in that laboratory of yours actually safe?” Dani chimes in.

You chuckle. “To be clear, nothing in the lab is safe.”

“Oh, remind me to not go upstairs when you’re working.”

“ _We_ will…” Patty jibes.

You chuckle nervously and get in the back with Erin. Patty, for the first time, gets in the front with Abby, before swapping with Dani, claiming she ‘gets travel sick upfront.’

“Oh, I’m sorry for dropping the C-Bomb, I know how much y’all hate it, I forgot, I was in pain, it slipped out.”

“Wait, you can’t say ‘cocksucker’?” Dani asks innocently.

 _“No…”_ you whisper, leaning forward to talk into Dani’s ear, _“nobody likes the word ‘cunt’, so I can’t say it. To be honest, it is pretty vulgar.”_

_“That’s such a good word, I use it all the time.”_

_“Yeah, well…”_ you raise your voice to normal in-car volume. “From now on, I, Jillian Holtzbert, will no longer say the word ‘cunt’ … Uh, from now. Okay?”

“Thank you, it really grinds me gears and it’s so sharp.” Erin says, placing a hand on your knee.

Patty leans over Erin and mock-punches your arm. “Yeah man, it’s not a nice word. In all honesty, none of your cursing is, but we’re used to it now.”

“I should probably stop cursing, to be honest. I mean, I’ve got a kid. Don’t want a three year old saying ‘fuck’.”

“She accidentally said ‘dick’ the other week.” Abby replies, chuckling nervously. “I told her I didn’t hear what she said and that my ears weren’t working.”

“Meh, that’s not so bad.”

Erin backhand slaps your thigh.

“Hey! It could have been worse! She could have said ‘fuck.’ Uh, guys, I don’t feel so good. I feel woozy.”

“C’or, really?” Abby asks, upfront.

You nod overly slowly and close your left eye, screwing your face up. You hadn’t realised the car is moving, but as Abby swings around the corner, you heave, loudly.

Erin notices that you’re really pale and she asks Abby to pull over. “What’s up babe, car sick?” she asks.

You shake your head and heave again.

“Babe, get out the car. Don’t throw up on the seats, cos I’m not cleaning it up.”

You undo your seatbelt, pull the door handle and push open the door. You stumble out, into the road, which is clear and lurch. Instinctively you grab hold of the door handle, to stop yourself from faceplanting the concrete, and then you throw up.

“Not to be a harbinger of bad news, but I think that’s shock. I think her body’s going into shock and I would suggest a trip to A&E.” Dani says, twisting in her seat to be able to look at all three passengers.

You throw up violently again and your knees become weak, so you fall to the floor in an untidy heap. You start shivering, but your skin is clammy and hot.

Erin gets out to check your temperature and shakes her head. “She’s burning up.”

“I’m cold.” You complain.

“A&E now.” She lifts you back into the car, where you blow air through your lips in her direction. “Urgh, babe, your breath stinks of vomit. Please turn your head.” She leans over to manually unwind the window and you feel the breeze as the car heads towards the hospital.

**_Forty minutes later_ **

****

After being seen to by the doctor, and had your hand looked at, and your fluids replaced, you’re back in the car, with some anti-inflammatories, antiseptic cream and sickness tablets. You sigh out of boredom and want to get home as quickly as possible. You tut at Abby’s slow driving (actually sticking to the speed limits, but it feels super slow in comparison to your own driving.) As she stops at a red light, which seems to take forever to turn green, you groan loudly and tip your head back. You start tapping your foot and inhale deeply, before exhaling slowly and loudly.

“What _is_ the matter with you?” Erin asks, twisting her neck to look at you.

“I’m boooooooreeeeed. And Abby is driving way too slowly.”

“I’m sticking to the speed limits, thank you. And at least I can drive in a straight line, which is more than I can say for you!”

You huff. “But did you die?”

“No, but we have very _nearly_ died in this car, _several_ times.” Erin retorts, exasperated.

You snort – a sort of snore noise – before blowing raspberries and making fart noises with your mouth.

“Oh, my God. You really are a fucking child.” Erin says, shaking her head, before giggling.

You make even more silly noises and start drumming on your thighs. You look out of the window, roll your head forwards and around to the right, before rolling it around to the front again, where you snort like a horse and then clap your hands repeatedly.

“Uh, Holtzy, are you okay, dude?” Patty asks.

You stop clapping and begin clicking your tongue instead.

“Are you sure she’s an adult and we’ve not accidentally picked up another child?” Dani quips in the front seat.

“Babe?”

“Yah, what?”

“Are you having an AMD, right now?”

You bop your head to invisible music and poke the tip of your tongue out between your teeth, before nodding with over exaggerated head movements.

“Shall I take that as a yes?”

You continue dancing with your head and Erin searches in her jumpsuit pocket for her tiny notebook. She pulls it out, flicks through the pages and settles on the last diary entry: ‘Holtz – 12:45am, Adderall and Antidepressant tablets; 45 minutes late. Possible wash-out from Monster Energy Drink – Will keep an eye on her.’ Erin checks her watch and does some mental arithmetic. “Okay, so you’ve got until 4pm before you can take any more ADHD meds, okay, honey? But I think the Monster washed out the last lot, which you took at 12:45, so potentially safe… Babe, uh, normal, normal mouth, okay?” She asks, rhetorically, noticing that you’ve folded your top lip in over your top teeth, so they’re protruding. You stretch your mouth wide, shake your head, screw your eyes shut, grumble and then sit there, like a ‘normal’ human being.

“So, basically she needs her medication – Is this what happens when she doesn’t take them?”

“Sometimes. Sometimes she just ends up being a hyperactive squirrel, other times she regresses into a young child, and other times she makes uncontrolled movements, like now, and you ask her about them later and she won’t remember what she’s been doing. When she’s in this state, she’s prone to being extremely quiet, and just makes noises and faces…”

“Like tics from Tourette’s?” Dani asks, turning to face Erin.

“Possibly, I don’t rightly know.”

“Do you think her meds make them worse?”

“They make them better, but the tics are more noticeable when she’s off them. To be honest, when I first met Holtz, she wasn’t on any form of medication, and then one day, she had a complete meltdown after a bust and wrecked the lab, which frightened the three of us, so Abby, being trained in Psychology, decided to do some therapy for her; which of course didn’t work properly, as she wouldn’t open up to her best friend, so Abby dragged her to a therapist and he concluded that she was in need of Adderall. He explained that whilst ‘stimulants increase concentration and energy levels, it decreases the need for sleep and supresses the appetite. Adderall increases the activity of several neurotransmitters, such as serotonin, norepinephrine and dopamine. It stimulates the sympathetic nervous system, which triggers the body’s ‘fight or flight’ responses, such as pupil dilation, increased blood pressure and heart rate and increased sweating.’ He then went on to explain that ‘Adderall may help increase the ability to focus, pay attention and control behaviour’.”

“Woah, Jeez, that’s a lot of information. So, basically she needs Add to survive?”

“Well, no, she can survive without it; just the outbursts, delayed responses, including delayed pain receptors, poor concentration, sluggish movements, lack of appetite and lack of sleep will definitely cause some issues. I don’t think her sleeping for 14 minutes a day helped either! With or without the need of a stimulant drug.”

“So, er, what’s the side effects?” Dani asks, massaging the cramp from her neck, but turning to face out the windscreen.

“With or without the meds?” Erin ponders.

“Without…”

“This. Whatever she’s doing now…” Erin turns to see that you have stopped fidgeting and have fallen asleep; you’ve exerted yourself and the Monster Energy Drink has made you crash and burn out. “Okay, good, she’s asleep. The side effects _with_ Adderall – er, dextroamphetamine and amphetamine…”

“Wait, I though amphetamines were bad for you?”

“ _Meth_ amphetamine is, yes. Methamphetamine is a central nervous drug, which is taken recreationally like MDMA/Ecstasy. Other recreational drugs include: Cocaine and LSD/Acid. LSD/Acid is a hallucinogenic drug. MDMA is a psychoactive drug, same as Cocaine. And I know all this because I’m a Scientist. Granted, they have nothing to do with Physics, but as an Associate Professor, I needed to be aware of what drugs my students were taking, and believe you-me, there were a _lot_ of drugs.”

“Oh, shit. I’ve only taken one Ecstasy tablet in my life, when I was 16, I smoked a lot of marijuana and I got spiked with LSD and had a nasty trip and ended up in the hospital, when I was 17. Uh, yeah, don’t tell Kev that! He’ll go ballistic!”

“What’s said in the Ecto, stays in the Ecto, dude.” Patty adds, rolling her eyes out of the window.

“Thanks, guys. But, uh, yeah, side effects of Adderall?”

“Right, right. This list isn’t exhaustive. Okay, so the side effects include, but aren’t limited to: nervousness, restlessness, difficulty in falling, or staying, asleep, uncontrollable shaking of a part of the body, headache, changes in sex drive, or ability, dry mouth, stomach pain and nausea; including vomiting, diarrhoea and constipation. Also covers loss of appetite and subsequent weight loss.”

“Well, fuck…”

“That’s the non-serious side effects.”

“Wait, there’s _serious_ side effects?! What the hell?!”

“Yup, and these need to be seen by a doctor _immediately._ They include fast or pounding heartbeat, shortness of breath, chest pain, excessive tiredness, slow or difficult speech, dizziness or fainting, weakness or numbness in limbs, seizures, motor or verbal tics, believing things which aren’t true, feeling unusually suspicious of others, hallucinations, uh, mania, aggressive or hostile behaviour, changes in vision, including blurred vision, fevers, blisters, rashes, hives, itching, swelling of the eyes, face, tongue or throat, difficulty breathing or swallowing and finally hoarseness.”

“So, of those, what’s Holtz had?”

“Uh, you really wanna go down that road? Okay… Top of my head. Nervousness, restlessness, difficulty falling asleep – nothing new, always been an issue, so I’ve discounted that as a ‘side effect’, uhm, changes in sex drive – her libido fluctuates – she’s been sick a couple of times. And the more serious side effects, which we _have_ been to see a doctor about was the aggressive and hostile behaviour, motor and verbal tics – which you’ve just experienced, believing things which aren’t true – like on our honeymoon she got it into her head that she wasn’t good enough for me and for Jane and that she was a terrible mother and she keeps pushing me away and thinking I’m gonna divorce her and leave her and I really, _really_ won’t because I love her far, far, _far_ too much; she’s my whole world… No offence Abs, Pats… She has fainted twice because of the meds, but I think today’s episodes were because of the broken knuckle, and as you said, the shock of trauma. The funny thing is, believing in ghosts is one of those things, which not everybody understands, or believes in, but as we all believe in them; this is our life’s work, we can discount that as a side effect.”

“So, what about these motor tics?”

“Well, we went to see her doctor about it, after she told us she wanted to kill herself, and the doctor just said that they are synonymous with Autistic people and that we should just keep an eye on her, because they can’t exactly be linked to Adderall as the sole cause, because they happen in Autistics who don’t have ADHD, too.”

“Wait, hol’ up, back up… She-she wanted to _kill_ herself? Why?”

“Another one of those believing things that aren’t true. I incorrectly worded that she _sometimes_ irritates us with her stubbornness, her cocky behaviour and that she drains us when she misbehaves – which I’m not too sure is a side effect of the Autism, failing to take her meds, or actually taking them, or her ADHD, or a combination of the Autism, ADHD _and_ the meds, or forgetting them – she’s a whirlwind.” Abby says swinging into a side-street for a short-cut.

“It sounds like it’s a combination of everything. Has she, uh, has she ever self-harmed? Like other than hitting herself in the head or punching inanimate objects?”

“I don’t believe so; she told me she never has self-harmed, I think she just gets thoughts and _feels_ like she wants to, but never actually goes through with it, for which I’m grateful.”

Dani swallows and pushes down her sleeves to hide her own scars. Abby notices her doing so, and looks sheepishly at Dani, who catches her eye. She shrugs and stares out of the window.

“Look, let’s change the subject, ey?” Abby asks, turning on the stereo, but making sure it’s quiet enough so you remain sleeping.

Before too long, the car pulls up outside the Firehouse garage and Abby is pressing the button, located on the inside of the sun visor, which allows the garage door to automatically lift open. She waits for it to clear the gap, shoves the car into reverse and backs into the garage. Once inside, she shuts the garage door and Erin gently shakes you awake.

“Wha-th-fuu…?!” You slur as you’re startled. You place your right hand over your heart and exhale sharply. “Don’t _do_ that!” you exclaim.

“Sorry, baby girl.” Erin kisses your forehead, unclips your seatbelt and ushers you out of the car.

You blink your heavy eyes, and wander into the Firehouse, unbuttoning and unzipping your jumpsuit as you walk. You stop by your locker to unlace your boots, before tugging them off, toppling over and landing in a pile of boxes labelled: ‘Useful Bits and Pieces – Erin: DO NOT TOUCH!’ You pull a face as you yank the boots off, then get up, rub your sore butt and elbow and take off the jumpsuit. You sling it over the crook of your arm and wander over to your locker, in your dark striped leggings, blood-stained tank top, with neon sports bra visible through the material, and Pugtato socks. You slide on the concrete floor and grab hold of a mechanics workbench to stop yourself plummeting to the floor for the second time in five minutes.

Erin silently hands you half an Adderall tablet. You wrinkle your nose at it, but pop it in your mouth and dry-swallow it. You know for a _fact_ that means you’ll have taken 3.5 tablets today and you will be over the dosage limit, come 6pm, but considering the Monster diluted the effects of the second tablet, you figure it’ll be okay. Before you even have time to think, Erin’s jumpsuit is hanging up in her locker and she’s pushing the door closed; it _clicks_ shut.

“I’ll keep an eye on you, honey. Right, ladies, Holtz and I need to be off, we’ve a baby to take care of.”

“Toddler. I think the word you’re looking for is ‘toddler’.” You reply, staring into space.

“Same thing – Young child, less than 5 years old.” Erin quips, grabbing her brown trench coat. She pulls out her car keys, waits for you to grab some sort of covering, to hide the blood, and looks at her watch.

Looking about, you can’t find anything to wear, so you stalk off upstairs in search of a hoodie, jumper, your leather jacket – anything – until you can get home and use Seltzer water and lemon for the blood on your tank. You wander downstairs five minutes later, wearing your recently purchased ‘New York or Nowhere’ hoodie and shove your hands into the hoodie pocket. You fist-bump Dani and cuddle Abby and Patty before waving goodbye and following Erin out the pedestrian door to where her Camaro is parked around the corner to the other side of the Firehouse (not the alleyway in which you conduct your Weapons Tests.)

* * *

Getting in the car, you wait until Erin has sat in the driver’s seat, before taking the keys from her hands, tossing them into the back of the car and straddling her lap.

“Babe, what’re you…” she begins, before finding your lips covering hers. “We can’t… it’s daylight… Bae… No… Oh God, that feels nice… Shit. Fuck. Okay.” She says, as you kiss down her neck, find her turn-on spot behind her left ear and nibble her earlobe. You breathe relentlessly into it and she sighs lustily, her breath catching in her throat, before falling staccato from her lips.

“Where’s this sex drive come from?”

“Fuck knows.” You breathe, right into her ear.

“Oh, Jesus.”

You continue kissing her and wrestle her trench coat off her, before launching it onto the back, where it falls to the floor in an untidy heap. You unbutton her flannel shirt, and gulp at her tanned skin, sweat already forming across her chest. You seductively lick at her skin, and thrust a hand into her bra, playing with her nipple; teasing her. You pull her shirt off her shoulders, and kiss the bare skin, before trailing kisses down her stomach, your right hand lazily floating over her waist. She breathes hard and pants twice quickly, before licking her lips and biting the lower one. Your hand goes into the waistband of her jeans, but no further. You kiss her lips a few more times, then push your butt towards the passenger seat, swinging your right leg over the top of the steering wheel, before collapsing in the middle of the seat, grabbing your belt and tugging it into position.

Erin stares at you, open-mouthed, quickly buttons up her shirt and mock-punches your left bicep; a little too hard, as she gives you a dead arm. “What the hell?” she breathes.

“You said we’re in public and we have to get Jane.”

“Uh.” She exhales. “You’re gonna get it later!”

“Well, I should hope so!”

“Nuh-uh, you’re not getting _sex_ later, you’re gonna be in trouble later.”

“Sex, trouble, isn’t that the same thing?”

“No, sex is a reward, madam.”

“I thought sex was recreational, procreational, rewarding _and_ fun.”

“It is, but you’re not having any sex, because you’ve left me hanging.”

“So, we should have angry sex?”

“No, you’re not having any. You can sort yourself out, missy!” She says, as you lean over between the seats to search for the car keys. You thrust your right hand behind you, through the seats, and wait for Erin to take the keys, before pulling yourself through and righting yourself in the dark-grey polyester seat.

You drum the dashboard with the outer edge of your index fingers, she shakes her head, starts the car, puts it in gear and drives to her parents’ house.


	52. Chapter 50

Pulling up outside a red wood-panelled house, with newly painted white door arches and window frames, you smile at the neatly pruned tree in the front garden. You take in the grey slates adorning the walls and matching the roof and think of how wonderful it must be to live in a house, instead of an apartment. You glance sidelong at Erin, and sigh.

“Your dad’s been busy in the garden again.” You say, pointing at the tree, shaped like a dolphin. “He likes his animals.”

“He really does, but I think that might be for Jane’s benefit. Come on, it’s been ages since we’ve stopped for a cup of tea.”

“Coffee.”

“Whatever, a hot beverage.” She unbuckles her seatbelt and clambers out of the car. Shutting the door with precision, but not force, she wanders around to your side and opens the door for you.

“Well, who said chivalry was dead?” you contemplate. Immediately you’re greeted by Erin’s Mom, Rachel, rushing down the front path, hair in a bun, flowery apron over her neck and around her waist, a light dusting of flour on the surface. She wanders, with her arms outstretched, and pulls Erin into the famous Gilbert-Squeeze-Hug, which is not to dissimilar to one of your own. Erin gasps, as the breath is pushed from her. After what seems like an absolute age, she is released and Erin looks down at her flannel shirt, to see that some of the powder has been left on the front. She brushes it off and sighs.

“Holtzyyyy!” She says, and you know a bone-crushing hug is inevitable; not that you don’t like them, just you’re feeling a little fragile. She grabs your shoulders and yanks you into a hug, so hard that she actually cracks your back. You roll your eyes in a manner which reads _‘Oh, my God, that felt good’_. And let her squeeze the air from you, before she is pulling away sharply and frowning at you.

“Something’s up. What is it?” she trills.

“No-thing…” you lie.

She narrows her eyes at you, and you’re wondering what she’s trying to decipher. “I smell blood, what’s happened?”

Erin’s Mom, famous for her hugs, cookie, cakes and extremely sensitive smell, holds you, at arms-length, by your shoulders. She inhales and frowns again. She tuts and shakes her head, before locating your damaged knuckles and scrutinizing them. “You are a walking safety hazard, my love. And let’s get that top clean before it settles.”

“How do you know about my top?”

“I know everything. And I’ve known you long enough, to notice that when something of yours bleeds, it’s wiped on an item of clothing. Erin used to do it when she was a child. It’s habitual, and very common in youngsters. And, alas, _you_.”

You grin sheepishly as she takes you by the left hand and drags you up the garden path. Erin locks the car and follows suit.

Flinging open the door, Rachel announces your arrival. “Bill, the Holtzberts are here. Jane, your Moms are here!”

Bill, wearing a checked shirt, tucked into his high-waisted jeans (now you know where Erin gets it from) and wearing brown loafers, appears from the kitchen carrying a bottle of white wine.

Jane, looking like she’s been dragged through a hedge backwards, appears in little denim shorts, a once-plain-white t-shirt (now with grass and mud stains all over it) and her Nike trainers, from the back garden. She runs over to you, slams into your shin and momentarily hurts it as you’re pushed backwards. Straight away she’s up, into your arms, and you’re planting kisses all over her face. She wipes them off as you hand her to Erin for cuddles. Erin notices that your usual sparkle has returned to your eyes and she can tell, from your body language and the obvious, and large grin, that you’re happy to see her and just want a rest from busting ghosts.

“Hallo, tyke! What have you been up to; you’re filthy little one?”

“Playing in the garden.” She responds, wriggling in Erin’s grip.

“Have you been in the bushes?”

“Nope, up the tree.”

Erin’s eyes widen in horror.

“You can climb trees? Since when?”

“Since last week. Don’t worry, Bill’s been keeping an eye on her. She’s absolutely fine. Hasn’t fallen yet, touch wood…” Rachel stops to knock a wooden table top.

“ _I_ didn’t even climb trees at her age.” You retort. “That started when I was at least 6.”

Erin remains shocked.

Before too long, you’re sat on the leather two-seater loveseat, with Jane now playing with ‘Mechano’. Bill brought out a tray of teacups, a teapot and biscuits and within three seconds of Rachel sitting down, the oven _pinged_ and she was on her feet again.

You’re aware of the noises happening in the kitchen and move to help, before Bill puts a hand on your forearm and tells you to sit. He then goes to check on his wife to make sure everything is under control. On his return, Jane has given up building and is now sat, on a beanbag, too close for Erin’s comfort, to the large TV in the lounge, watching ‘Peppa Pig’. Your attention is drawn to the TV, and soon enough, you’re lost in the world of colour and children’s entertainment, cup unattended on the tray. You’re handed a small plate with a very large slice of Victoria Sponge on it. Well, more like Erin takes your hand, places the plate in it and closes your fingers around it, whilst you stare, transfixed on the programme.

The only time you avert your eyes, is to slice some cake with the side of your fork and scoop it up into your mouth. You then return to avidly watching the programme in as much silence as someone behaving at a library.

You aren’t aware of the conversation happening around you, as Erin describes the events of the latest bust (without revealing too much information about your self-harm, of course.) However, neither you or Jane are in this plane, you’ve both been sucked into the fantasy world of ‘Peppa Pig’, and as such any information shared would have just been lost out of the existence of your minds.

“Jane and Jillian are very similar, don’t you think?” Bill comments as you scoop another forkful of cake into your mouth.

“It is highly possible that Jane is Autistic; at least ADHD. They’re hereditary traits. Any problems at school we should know about?”

“Yes, but we wanted to talk to you in person and not over the phone. Jane has been a little bit bitey recently, and she hit a child out of frustration, because he stole her toy. Naturally the nursery were concerned and we were called in.”

“Oh, strewth. When was this?” 

“Not long after the Chicken Pox ordeal – you were just about to come back from France.”

“Oh, Lord. Give me strength.” She sighs. “How often has this happened?”

Bill clears his throat. “Only once, but she is prone to temper-tantrums; we’re not convinced that it’s ‘just her being a typical three-year-old’. I’ve worked with children for over thirty years, including the more ‘ _difficult’_ children, and with the way she behaves, it is typical of an Autistic child. With, or without ADHD. Might be an idea to get a specialists opinion. I mean, just look at them – sat exactly the same, staring vacantly, but still taking in _every single_ detail. She’s messy, and very energetic, but she’s incredibly bright and can sit still if she’s focused on something, like she is now. She’s got a lot of Jillian in her. Of course, she has your red-hair and both your eyes.”

“I know, she’s just so unique. One striking blue eye, like Jill and one grey-blue like me; although her one is more grey than my own.”

“Heterochromia Iridium is such a beautiful genetic mutation. She truly is blessed.” Rachel adds, smiling, before drinking her tea quietly.

“Babe?” Erin enquires.

You don’t hear her.

She tries again, just as the episode finishes, and you and Jane let out the exact same disappointed ‘aww’ at the same time. Erin shakes her head and smirks.

“Holtz?”

You whip your head around and nearly drop your fork; somehow you finished the cake.

“Your coffee is probably stone cold, right now.”

“Oh, good.” You swap the plate for the mug and take a large gulp of coffee, smiling at Jane, and pulling a face at her. You down the coffee, then spy a soccer ball in the back garden. “Hey, let’s play.” You say, pointing to it.

“Yeah, okay!” Jane exclaims, taking your hand as you lead her outside into the warm sunshine.

You kick it between you for a full 40 minutes, before Erin pokes her head around the door and suggests that it’s time to get Jane to bed. She pouts, and you pick her up and spin her around upside down, before throwing her up in the air and catching her, twice.

Once she’s settled on the ground, she stumbles inside, a little dizzy and you apologise for your absentmindedness. Rachel and Bill tell you that it’s fine, but the look Erin gives you tells you that you maybe should have made more of an effort to talk to your in-laws, considering you haven’t properly seen them in weeks.

Rachel stops you. _“Seltzer water and lemon juice for the blood_.” She whispers.

“I remember, from ‘Deadpool’.”

“That’s a movie, Mom.” Erin replies to her puzzled face.

“Mama, why are you holding your hand like that, did you get a booboo?”

“Wut?” you ask, not realising you’re cradling your broken hand, with a pained expression on your face. You look down at it, and then at her, then between the others, before trying to think of an explanation.

“Mama hurt herself at work, Janey. She thumped it on the boot of the car by mistake and has got nasty bruises to show for it.”

“Well, that was silly of you.”

“I know, sweetie. I told the car off.”

“Good, he shouldn’t have hit you.”

“ _She_.”

“Wait, the car is female? Why?”

“Objects mostly are – like boats, ships, erm, trains…”

“That’s weird.”

“Yup, I agree, but the Ectomobile is a good girl, I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“Well, that’s silly.” Jane says wandering off to put her shoes on.

“Yup, it is. C’mon squirt, let’s get you home and to bed.”

 _“One of these days she’s gonna see you flip; try to control it.”_ Erin says, placing her hand on your shoulder.

 _“I am trying.” _You hiss. You close your eyes and breathe in through your nose, slowly, before exhaling, through your mouth, equally as slowly. “ _Sorry, that was sharp.”_

“ _It’s fine, I know you didn’t mean it. You look drained, come on, think you need to also be in bed.”_

You chuckle awkwardly and allow Erin to drag the pair of you away.

* * *

Once Jane is fast asleep in her bed, in the second bedroom, Erin sits you down to talk about Jane’s outbursts in the nursery.

“So, Dad said she’s hit a child out of frustration, and the teachers think she’s just being a ‘typical three year old’, but he’s worked with children long enough to recognise the traits of an Autistic child. It’s hereditary, so if you have it, then she possibly has it.”

“But, she can’t have it, _you_ don’t have Autism and we used _your_ eggs, so I don’t think she has it.”

“Honey, I’m not saying she _definitely_ has it, but it might be an idea to see a child psychologist and/or a behavioural specialist, just in case, and so _if_ she is Autistic, she can get help – help which you got, which she _may_ need.”

You close your eyes and shake your head – for some reason, this information is hard to hear and it’s getting to you. You start rocking back and forth, slightly, at the dining table, and Erin notices.

“Honey, is this, um, _triggering_ for you?”

“I don’t know. I don’t understand. I’m the one who’s Special Needs, not you, so I don’t understand how Jane has Autism when you carried her. I’m so confused.”

“There are cases where a child can develop it from an early age, and only one parent has it –”

“But neither you or, what’s-his-face are Autistic, it’s _just_ me.”

“And there are cases where _neither_ parent are on the spectrum and the child _still_ develops it; it’s a cognitive developmental disorder. It can happen, I still think we should go and see the Family Doctor. It’s like Depression, Anxiety or Bipolar Disorder – they can happen at literally any point in one’s life, being Autistic is the same.”

“Okay. Yeah, sure. If you think it’ll help.”

“It _might_. We don’t know why she hit a kid – other than he stole her toy.”

“Well there you go! That’s the reason. He nicked something, he wouldn’t give it back.”

“So you’re condoning violence?”

“No!”

Erin looks at you pointedly.

“No, I’m not, I’m just saying, _kids_ ’ brains aren’t developed enough to ask nicely, or to take turns. That’s why we have to teach them that.”

“She’s also overly excitable, fidgety and has a short attention span. Sound familiar?”

“To whom?”

“You, sweetheart.”

“I feel like y-y-y-y-you’re attacking me.” You stutter.

“I’m not. Oh, honey, far from it. I’m sorry if you feel like that, but I _promise_ I’m not pinning the blame on you, or saying because you have Learning Difficulties, that automatically makes her have them. Would you rather we go and prove me wrong?”

“I suppose.”

“You get so smug when you prove me wrong; do it again. Prove me wrong.”

“And if you’re right?”

“Then it makes no odds … you will still have won.”

“How?”

“Because you’ll have passed your brilliance, your unique sense of the world and your imagination and creativity on to her – and that, _that_ is something to be proud of. Even though this isn’t an argument.”

“No, I know that. Bed time?”

“You look shattered, so yes, bed.”

“Sex?”

Erin considers for a minute. “When was the last time Jane slept right through the night?”

“Before the wedding.”

“Okay, good. Gives us plenty of time to fool around and sleep and have enough sleep, so that we don’t look like we’ve been up half the night.” She says, raising her eyebrows suggestively.

You snicker.

“You can finish what you started in the Cam.”

“I was going to anyway.”

“And tomorrow, we’ll talk more in-depth about the Autism diagnosis for Jane, okay?”

You sigh. “A’riiiight.”

“Don’t do that.”

* * *

Within seconds of the door closing you throw yourself on Erin and plant kisses all over her face, backing her into the wall as you do so. You practically rip her shirt off to get to her sun-kissed skin underneath. You kiss her bare shoulders and wrestle with the button of her jeans, whilst simultaneously trying to unhook her bra. You twinge your broken finger and let out a strangled noise. You rapidly blow air through your nose, trying to dissipate the pain and Erin helps you by taking her shirt and bra off.

This helps you to forget your pain and you’re launching rough kisses over her hot skin, paying particular attention, as usual, to the areolas and nipples. The left one is in your mouth as you use both hands to unbutton and pull down her bootcut jeans – a firm favourite of hers. You lick the pink cap, making it stiff before tackling the right one. Erin gasps and then ties her hair up in a bun (she had taken it out of its ponytail at her parents’) to keep it out of your way. Once she’s done, she pushes her pelvis into yours and you feel her grinding on you; gagging for it. She moans softly, and you grab her behind her head and bite her neck – leaving the beginnings of a lovebite, before switching to her left clavicle. You leave your mark, and ask her if it’s okay for you to be a little rough tonight; she nods, and, still with your hand behind her head, you grab a fistful of hair, tugging at it slightly as you half drag, half guide her to the bed, where you push her roughly onto the mattress. It bounces with her bodyweight and her legs are spread apart – an invitation if there ever was one!

Her jeans are on the floor, your hoodie is over your head and onto the floor, before Erin stops you and starts to mention the bloodstain. You shut her up with more kisses and strip off down to your underwear – so you’re topless like her. You look down at your body and grumble at the lack of six pack, making a mental note to start training and lifting again, and then, as per usual, you’re straddling her and biting at the flesh over where you started to leave a lovebite; where you intend on making it larger.

She sucks air through her teeth in mild pain and breathes shallow. “Holtz…” she begins. “Holtz, okay, ow, that… babe.”

You stop biting her, getting the hint. “I’m sorry, I did bad.”

“No, babe, it’s just getting very sore now and I can’t take anymore biting.”

“Okay, you want another one?”

“No, that’s okay. Just kiss me.”

You oblige and kiss her lips, passionately; tongue connecting with hers, you fight with it, playfully, before nibbling her lower lip. You remember that you wanted to be a bit more rough than usual and so you bite harder, accidentally making her lip bleed.

“Ow! Babe.”

“What?”

“You bit my lip.”

“That was the idea.”

“Mhm, I taste blood.”

“Oh, shit. Sorry. Too hard?”

“You think?”

You shrug and remind her that you’re going to be rough, so she doesn’t freak out. Within seconds, your fingers are pumping hard inside her vagina and she’s gasping and moaning with pleasure. Digging her fingernails into your back, she grips your back before dragging her nails down the flesh, leaving fingernail marks up the top and deep-red scratches down your spine. You grunt at the mix of pain and pleasure and continue your finger work, pushing harder. You suddenly stop, get off her and search for your strap-on. You attach it, effortlessly, and resume your position on top of Erin. You dip your head for a little while, ignoring the base of the strap-on digging into your body as it pushes into the mattress. You make her moan, and her vagina soaking, before you thrust the dildo deep and hard inside her.

You push into her over zealously and she whimpers with pain, so you slow down and continue carefully, but not breaking the motion. You keep an eye on her face, but she props herself up on her elbows, stares dead-pan into your eyes, grabs your hips and pushes herself hard into you so the pressure increases again. She continues to whimper, but doesn’t stop with her own movements, so you deduct that they are pleasurable whimpers. She lies back down, heavy against the mattress, and you keep your roughness up, penetrating her deep, hitting her G-Spot in quick succession.

She moans for you to go harder, but you find yourself beginning to run out of steam.

“I… I… can’t…” you pant; more than she is doing.

“Why… not?” she asks, in between moans.

“I’ve… got… no… energy.” You protest.

“Well get some.”

“How?” you say, still try to thrust at the same fast speed.

“Slow down, just hit me harder, not so fast. I don’t need fast an’ hard, just fuck me harder.”

“Yes, ma’am.” You manage to say. You slow down, but work on thrusting deeper and harder.

“Yeeeess!” she cries.

As her moans increase in volume, you don’t hear the spare bedroom door open, nor do you hear Jane wandering towards your room because she’s had a nightmare. You realise, far, _far_ too late that Jane is in the room, just as Erin is about to cum. You throw your hand over Erin’s mouth, where she instinctively bites down and you try to cover what’s left of your dignity with the duvet. You throw yourself on top of Erin and turn your head to look at Jane, who is bemused, alarmed and rooted to the spot.

“Jane, what’re you doing in here?” You die a little inside and feel your cheeks burning.

“I couldn’t sleep, Mama, I had a nightmare.”

“Aw, sweetie, I’m sorry to hear that. Give Mama a minute and I’ll come tuck you in, unless… you, er, want Mom?”

“What are you doing?”

You make a squeak. “Play fighting?” You suggest, now highly embarrassed.

“Do you always play fight naked?” she asks, without thinking.

You make silly noises as Erin grabs a t-shirt from off the side of the bed and hands it to you, before grabbing another (incidentally she’s wearing yours, and you hers.) She expertly moves out from underneath you, so your strap-on is hidden from view and she rolls over to your side of the bed, partially covered by the duvet.

“Wait outside, Jane then I’ll take you to bed, okay?”

Jane nods and disappears, closing the door behind her.

You close your eyes, and pinch the bridge of your nose. You inhale slowly and purse your lips; cheeks a deep-scarlet.

Erin throws on a pair of pyjama shorts and disappears into the hallway to a barrage of questions, that she manages to avoid by trying to discuss Jane’s nightmare.

You send a quick-fire message to Abby to tell her what has happened:

 **_Ecto Holtzy_   
**Dude, Jane just walked in on us, mid-sex. Erin was gonna cum!

 ** _Dr Soup, PhD  
_** Haha, that’s so unfortunate!

 ** _Ecto Holtzy  
_** It’s not funny, dude. I was wearing the strap on!

 ** _Dr Soup, PhD  
_** Hahahaha! Then it’s even funnier! You dick.

**Abby has added New York Lover to the chat.**

**_New York Lover  
_** Yo, what’s up bitcheezz?!

 ** _Dr Soup, PhD  
_** Jane walked in on Holtz and Erin having sex!

 ** _New York Lover  
_** Omg! Noooo! That’s so embarrassing.

 ** _Ecto Holtzy  
_** Thank you, dude. That’s what I said

 ** _Dr Soup, PhD  
_** Am I the only one who finds this hilarious?

 ** _Dr Soup, PhD_   
**Am I the only one who finds this hilarious?

 ** _Ecto Holtzy  
_** Yes, you are! Now my wife has to explain to our THREE year old about the damn Birds and the Bees! Fuck me.

 ** _Ecto Holtzy_   
**Yes, you are! Now my wife has to explain to our THREE year old about the damn Birds and the Bees! Fuck me.

 ** _Dr Soup, PhD  
_** Sounds like that’s what you were doing to Erin.

 ** _Ecto Holtzy  
_** Man, I’m gonna kill you, Abigail Yates!

You lock your phone and wait for Erin to return. She looks flustered and collapses onto the bed.

“What happened?”

“She asked me what we were doing, so I went with what you said, which was play fighting. But she gave me a pointed look and said: ‘Naked play fighting is a lie.’ Like, I swear, she’s so dang intelligent, it scares me.”

“So?”

“So she went on: ‘But you and Mama love each other, so why you fighting?’ I looked at her, then at the wall, and she had been staring at me, probing me with her eyes, so I caved.”

“Oh, God, what did you say?”

“When two people love each other, they get naked, and, erm… they do stuff together to show that they love each other. And her reply: ‘So like Tommy’s Dad loves Tommy’s Mom, so they do naked wrestling?’ again, cue embarrassment, so I just came out with it; straight up told her.”

“Shit, so you told her we were having sex?”

“Making love to each other.”

“Oh, good Lord. Oh, uh, Abby and Patty know.”

“What?! Why?”

“I told them.”

Erin sighs, loudly. “But why?”

“I had to tell someone.”

“Honey, this is the kind of stuff we keep between ourselves.”

“Oh.” You say, flushing red as you undo the buckles on your strap-on; the mood for sex has dissipated.

“Hey, don’t let her stop us.” She says, as you take off the strap, and dump it on the floor.

“I can’t, what if she walks in again?”

“I put a chair under the door handle; she’s not getting out. Hopefully she’ll be sound asleep and will sleep right through ‘til the morning.”

“You’re an evil genius.”

“Thank you.” Erin replies, grinning. “Now then…” she grabs you and throws you onto the bed, so you’re in the middle of the mattress. She spreads your legs and places her knees either side of your ankles, dips her head and presses her tongue against your clit.

“Oh, shit.” You gasp, as she hits the exact spot which sends a tingling feeling through your clit. She continues to lick your clit as she inserts her index and middle finger inside of you, alternating between in-and-out and a _‘come hither’_ motion. She stops licking to concentrate on her finger motion and you sigh.

“What?” she says, lifting her head.

“I was getting pretty close, pretty quick with the tongue.”

“Oh.” Erin resumes licking your vagina and your legs begin to shudder.

“You know… you’re eating… her right… when her… legs shake.” You pant.

“Mmhmm.” Erin replies, still eating you out.

You alternate between panting and moaning and randomly say “Harder Daddy.” Your phone, which has voice-activated speed dial believes you are wanting to call your Father, labelled ‘Daddy’ in your phone (thanks to Erin) and so it places a call to him, unbeknownst to you.

He picks up as you moan loudly.

 _“Hello?”_ He enquires, muffled through the speaker. “ _Jillian? Are you okay?”_

“Oh, Jesus. No, don’t slow down…” you moan again, before grunting with climax. “Yeah, yeah, ooh shit… Keep going, I’m nearly there…”

Your Father, now fully aware of what is happening, has started laughing uncontrollably on the phone, just as you scream Erin’s name and cum hard into her mouth. You suddenly relax, legs twitching, panting for breath, before the sounds of uproarious laughter floats into the room. “Wait, do you… hear that?” you ask, breathlessly.

Erin lifts her head, after tidying you up, and cocks her head. “Yeah, it sounds like… laughter?” she queries.

The pair of you frantically search for the source, and the light from your phone screen catches your eye. You grab it and your heart sinks.

“Dad?” you ask.

_“Hey there, had fun?”_

“Wh-what?”

 _“I heard everything..._ _Sounds like Erin gave you a good seeing to. How you feeling, girl?”_

“Uhhh, well… Wait, that was _you_ laughing?”

“ _Yes, cos you must have voice-dialled me, so I heard you fucking.”_

“Ohhhh mmmyyy Gooooooood!!” you whine, before sighing.

You put him on loudspeaker.

“What, what’s happened, Holtz?”

“Dad heard us fucking…” you say, despairingly, shaking your head.

“Oh, Jesus. So, first, our daughter walks in on us and now your Dad’s heard us. Fuck it, might as well make a porno!”

“ERIN!” You exclaim, voice high-pitched. “No, D-D-Dad, no, no, no we’re not gonna do that.”

“ _I made a porno once.”_

“Whaaaaat?! Y-you.made.a.porno? OhmyGod. When?”

_“I was 24 at the time; my then-girlfriend was into freaky-deaky stuff, so we did it. It was a budget porno; well, more like a sex tape… but yeah, we filmed ourselves fucking.”_

“Oh, Christ.”

_“So, did you have a good time?”_

“Well, she made me cum, sooo…”

“HOLTZ!” Erin shrieks, more embarrassed than you.

Both you and your Dad fall into fits of laughter.

_“Okay, girl, keep it tight… well, okay, not that, but look after yourselves, okay?”_

“Yeah, that ain’t gonna be tight anymore…”

“Holtz, if you’re talking about what I _think_ you’re talking about, I’m gonna slap you. Playfully of course, Mr. Holtzmann!” Erin adds, panicking that he’s gonna think it’s an abusive relationship.

_“There’s nothing wrong with sexual slapping, it’s when it starts being abusive, and outside of sex, that’s when it becomes a problem. Erin, give her a slap from me for misbehaving.”_

“What? Why am I misbehaving?”

_“Cos you rang me during sexual intercourse… Or whatever you lesbians call it.”_

“We just call it ‘sex’, or ‘making love’, Dad.”

 _“Okay, well behave. Speak soon, but not too soon, I hope!”_ He hangs up.

“Can’t even have sex without being interrupted today, can we?”

“Let’s get some sleep.” Erin says yawning. You roll your eyes, but get ready for bed.


	53. Chapter 51

**_Three years later; 24 June 2025._ **

**_1st Grade Science Fair, East Side Middle School; 4:05pm._ **

****

You wander through the double doors, ahead of Erin, excited to see what the students have created for the Science Fair. You know there are judges there, awarding prizes for the best three Science Projects, and you’re eager to see what Jane has made.

You’re dressed in your paint-splattered overalls with the trouser legs rolled up, coupled with your pine-green long-sleeved crop top underneath. You’re wearing your knee length black-and-white horizontal-striped sock on your left side, and a shorter patterned sock, which just about reaches the top of your boot, on your right side. Your boots, which looks like military boots, have been polished, for the first time in years and you’ve got your leather jacket, unzipped, over the top half of your body. Your red leather gloves are on your hands, with the wrist strap undone, in the usual fashion. Currently you’re checking the time on your large green sports watch – 4:05pm.

Erin enters behind you carrying a name tag, in a plastic wallet with a clip on the top. She is wearing her standard boot-cut jeans (seemingly she only owns the one pair) and her pink long-sleeved top, along with her black ankle boots. Her red hair is in a high ponytail and her fringe has recently been cut just above her eyebrows. She quickly scans the room and finds you approaching a child’s volcano project. She wanders over to you and hands you the nametag: _Ms Holtzmann._ You clip it to your left-breast pocket and let it hang down over your breast. You contemplate it for a moment, before noticing Erin’s, in roughly the same place. It reads: _Ms Gilbert._ It seems then that the School is not advertising the fact that you are a married couple and that your maiden names are ‘more PC’ than your married names. You roll your eyes and inhale deeply, before engaging in conversation with the young boy about his Science Project. Erin joins in for a minute, before she gets called over to where Jane is standing. Her name tag, however reads: Jane Holtzbert. _Interesting._ Erin whispers to the black woman who called her over.

_“Have you got a Sharpie, I want to change our names?”_

_“I’m afraid you can’t do that?”_

_“Why’s that? I’m Mrs Holtzbert, my wife is Mrs Holtzbert, and this is our daughter Jane Holtzbert.”_

_“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realise you were married.”_

_“But you didn’t register that Jane is our daughter?”_

_“Honestly, no, I’ve worked here for six weeks.”_

_“Okay, well, please can I amend our names, because we’ve got our maiden names on these.”_

_“I’ll see what I can do.”_ And with that, she disappears into the crowds.

“Are you okay Mom?” Jane asks.

“Yes, fine thanks, just wanna change mine and Mama’s nametags. They’ve put our maiden names on them.”

“That sucks.”

“Yeah, just a bit. So, hey, what’ve you got here?”

“My Science Project, duh.”

“Um, excuse me, that was rude.”

“Sorry, Mom. Okay, so yeah, this is my project called ‘Pepper’s Ghost’. Pepper’s Ghost is an illusion technique used in the theatre, amusement parks, museums, television and concerts. It is named after the English scientist John Henry Pepper, born 1821, died 1900, who popularised the effect in a demonstration in 1862.”

“Oh, well that’s interesting, so how does it work?” You ask, approaching her table and looking at the cardboard shoebox (which your Vans once lived), light, CD case and figurine.

“Okay, well you need to look at it from this angle for the full effect.” She points to where you need to be and you stand there, bending over double, so you can see the illusion. “The basic trick involves a stage, or in my case this shoebox, that is specially arranged into two rooms – as you can see here, two separate compartments – one that the audience can see into and one, which is known as the ‘blue room’, which is hidden. Normally Plexiglas is used, but as I cannot obtain Plexiglas at six years old, I have found a suitable alternative…”

You and Erin realise that the judges, the men dressed in suits, the only woman in a pencil skirt and blazer, have approached the table and are making notes on a clipboard.

“The substitute here is a CD case. CD cases are either made of translucent or transparent polystyrene, or a stronger alternative – semi-opaque, semi-flexible polypropylene; the latter being strong enough to protect the disc, but flexible enough not to break easily. As mentioned previously, a plate of glass, Plexiglas or plastic film is placed somewhere in the main room at an angle that reflects the view of the blue room to the audience. Generally, it is arranged so that the blue room is to one ride and the plate on the stage is rotated around its vertical axis at a 45 degree angle, to create the best effect. As you can see here, I have carefully made the CD case as invisible as possible, by hiding the lower edge, and painting the room black to avoid visual discrepancies and making sure this light –” she points at it, which is still on “is not reflecting off it. This was done through trial and error, but it is to be noted that when the lights are bright in the main room, as it were in a theatre, then the reflected image cannot be seen. However, when the light is the other way around – placed inside the blue room, with the main compartments lights dimmed, or in this case, _off_ , then the image appears to be floating in thin air. As researched, I have discovered that a common variation uses two blue rooms – one of which is behind the glass, and one to the side, which can be switched visible or invisible by alternating the lighting. Of course, this is more practical for stage, or studio usage, and not here in a cardboard box.”

The judges scribble notes on a pad and ask some searching questions, which Jane answers effortlessly, reeling off information which she has clearly studied and absorbed. You are impressed with her knowledge and smirk to yourself knowing full-well that she has the makings of a Scientist – it’s in her blood and her genes. The judges thank her and move on to the student next to her to ask him about his project and to make an informed decision to see who is likely to win the competition.

The black lady, with naturally curly hair, returns, Sharpie in hand, and presents it to Erin. She pulls the paper out of the plastic wallet, flips it over and writes: _Mrs Holtzbert_ , before replacing it and doing the same for your name badge. She nods, satisfactorily and discusses the Pepper’s Ghost illusion further with Jane.

“So what made you come up with this idea?”

“Honestly, I don’t know. I was researching ‘unique Science projects’ and it came up. It is Physics related, due to light, photo, and slightly mathematical as one has to determine the correct angle. There’s also History involved, as it’s learning about the historical usage of this illusion and it’s artistic, as it’s primarily used in theatre, so it’s Arts, Science, Maths and History all rolled into one; with primary focus on Art and Science.”

“I’m very impressed, girly.” You say, kissing the air. She looks about her before ‘catching’ the imaginary kiss and tapping her chest, in line with her heart as if she were placing it inside her heart.

“Thanks, Ma. But, hey, have a look around, there’s loads of interesting things here. Derek has made a robotic arm, there’s Jon and his volcano, Mary with her alarm system and Dave with his odour generating alarm, which releases a small amount of Wasabi into the air, so the person nearby has to stop what they’re doing and vacate the premises as the smell is so strong.”

“Huh, that _might_ be useful for me… I hyperfocus on my work and I’ve nearly missed a few busts.”

“Let’s go talk to Dave then, shall we?” Erin suggests, just as an announcement is made.

A woman clears her throat. “Ladies and Gentlemen, Boys and Girls. I am Ms Hewitt and I am the Principal of the School. Welcome to East Side Middle School’s 1st Grade Science Fair! The students have all been working exceptionally hard over the past month, researching their chosen Science project, gathering the materials, creating their projects, testing them, amended them, right up until today’s eclectic mix. As you can see, we have a wide-range of Chemistry, Physics and Biology projects and each student shall receive 5 House Points for their projects, which goes towards the end-of-year awards ceremony. As you can see we have 3 judges in our midst – Prof. Andrew Perkins, Dr. Farrah Jenkins and Mr. Colin Davidson. Each are experts in their fields and have studied Science or Mathematics to the nth degree. Professor Perkins is a Chemistry lecturer at Princeton University, Dr Jenkins is a Quantum Physics tutor and Mr Davidson is a retired Maths teacher, who incidentally worked at this very school for nearly 30 years! The competition shall place three of the best projects in the lead, with every other student being runner up, with an additional 10 House Points. You will have noticed that there is a charity box near the entrance, please don’t feel obliged to give, if you are felt lead to do so, then the funds shall go towards next year’s field trip – location to be confirmed at a further date. In two weeks’ time is our Show and Tell Day, whereby students can either bring in an object which holds something special to them and present it to the class, explaining why it is special to them, or they can bring in one parent, or legal guardian to tell the class about their job, how they got into it and, if possible, how our budding students can get a job in said field. We will be starting with Ms Tully’s class, on Tuesday 8th August in the morning session and this will run for three days, as we cannot expect every child, even though her class is the smallest of 20 students, to bring a parent, carer or object on the first day. If children wish to bring an adult, it will, I’m afraid, be on a first come, first serve basis, to allow everyone to have a chance. There are forms at the front, with timeslots from 8:30am through to 3:30pm. Thank you and good luck students!”

There is a murmur of conversation and everyone resumes what they were doing; parents/carers and children alike. Erin nods at you and you both disappear to talk to Dave.

* * *

“So where’s your Dad, why do you have two Moms?” Elizabeth asks Jane, sounding curious, but with an undertone of disdain.

“I don’t have a Dad.”

“Well, you have to have a Dad, otherwise you wouldn’t have been born.”

“Well, I know I must have had a Dad, but he isn’t in the picture.”

“So your Mom adopted you?” Elizabeth asks, harrumphing.

“No, my Mom married my Mama after they had me.”

“But why didn’t your Mom marry your Dad? Why isn’t he around?”

“I dunno, ask them.”

“Ask who?” Elizabeth asks, smoothing the front of her clothes; she knows exactly who, but she’s trying to pick a fight.

“My Moms, Liz. Ask my Moms why my Dad isn’t around, I dunno.”

You’ve tried not to, but inevitably you’ve eavesdropped onto Jane’s conversation and you choose that moment to slink over to her table, where Elizabeth is standing opposite Jane, hands on hips, looking too big for her boots.

“You alright, kid?”

“Fine.” Jane replies with a tone which clearly indicates that she’s not fine.

“I couldn’t help but to overhear your conversation. What seems to be the problem?” you direct this at the other girl, eyebrow raised, arms folded across the chest.

“I was merely asking Jane where her Dad was, that’s all. And why she has two Moms, when some people don’t even have one; that isn’t really fair.”

“It has nothing to do with fairness, _sweetie_.” You say, trying to be nice, but feeling contempt rising inside. “Jane has two Moms, because I married a woman, that’s why.”

“But marriage is between a man and a woman.”

“Traditionally, yes, but same-sex couples can now get married.”

“Oh, so you’re a lesbian?”

“I, er, what, how do you know about that, you’re six?”

“Because I read, stupid. I know all about gay men and lesbian women.” She replies, trying to sound more intelligent than you.

“’Stupid’? Oh, honey, I am _not_ stupid; and I rather resent that remark. Didn’t your parents ever teach you to respect your elders?”

“No, but my Nanny did.”

“Nanny, as in…”

“Grandma.”

“Okay, well, maybe you should listen to Grandma and respect your elders, and perhaps, stop trying to brown nose, and keep your nose out of other people’s business, ‘kay?”

“I was simply asking.”

“And Jane simply answered.”

“But why does she not have a Dad, how was she born?”

“Because… it’s a long story, and one I am not prepared to tell a six year old.”

An old lady approaches. “Hello dears, what’s the trouble?”

“Assuming this is your granddaughter?”

“Yes.”

“Kindly tell her to mind her own business and stop being so damn judgemental on why my daughter has two mothers – and perhaps re-educate her on speaking properly to her elders, no disrespect.”

“What’s Lizzie been saying now?”

“Liz asked me why I’ve got no Dad, then insulted my Ma because she’s a lesbian and then said that my Ma is stupid and that marriage can only be between man and woman.”

“Lizzie, dear, what have I told you? Love is Love. And what does it say in 1 Corinthians, chapter 13 and verses 4-8?”

“Love thy neighbour?”

“No, Lizzie. It says: ‘Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonour others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil, but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.’ And as such, you will do well to remember this; or at least the former: ‘Love is patient, love is kind.’ So I shall trust you to apologise to Jane and her Mother and keep your opinions to yourself.”

“Sorry Grandma. Sorry Jane, sorry Jane’s Mom.”

Jane grins stupidly and you nod your head towards Liz. “That’s alright, just don’t do it again.” You shake the Grandmother’s hand and go your separate ways. Rejoining Erin you sigh and shake your head. “Hey, you’d be proud of me. I kept my cool around a six year old.”

“Well, I should hope so too, but what happened?”

“Urgh, some kid was trying to pick a fight with Jane about having to Moms.”

“Urgh, kids…”

“Yuuup.” You reply, inhaling quietly and exhaling loudly through your nose.

The throng of people increases as more parents and carers wander round the exhibits and the noise levels increase, making you wind in your neck and pull a face. You had remembered to take your ADHD medication before entering the School, to keep calm, even though Science is your ‘thing’, but now you have to focus all your energy into appearing neurotypical and try not to have a meltdown because it’s suddenly too loud and too crowded in the cafeteria. You subconsciously grip Erin’s hand and squeeze it making her fingertips turn red. You notice Jane blinking rapidly and wonder if she too is also trying hard to fight an Autistic meltdown (the tests came back conclusive as to being moderately Autistic and ADHD – Whereas you’re Asperger’s/High Functioning Autistic, Jane is more Autistic than you are, and it shows; you have _some_ issues with light and sound sensitivity, as well as crowds, but Jane has issues with nearly _all_ sensory difficulties, including food and clothing being the wrong textures or materials. Despite her high intelligence, and obvious attempts at being independent, she requires a one-to-one helper to support her in class, mostly with her ADHD, so she is reminded, and helped, to stay focused; she is too young for ADHD medication, but she is on the waiting list.) She starts clenching and unclenching her hand and you launch yourself over to her table to try and help her.

“You alright, Janey?”

She shakes her head rapidly.

“AMD?” (Which has come to mean ‘Autistic Meltdown’ and which is easier and less embarrassing to say when out in public) you ask, coming around to her side of the table.

She nods rapidly.

“Do you need me, or do you need your supporter?”

“I need my sensory toy. Mrs Jackson, Mrs Jackson?!” she asks, volume increasing. The black woman with curly hair appears.

“What’s up Jane?”

“I need my sensory toy.”

“Which one?”

“The blue one with the lights.”

“Right you are, kiddo.” She disappears to get it, returning seconds later with a small silicone ball containing miniature LED lights. Mrs Jackson switches it on and hands it to Jane who gratefully receives it and stares intensely at its colours.

“Hey, Mrs Jackson, right?”

“I am she.”

“How much does that work?”

“Oh, 70% of the time.”

“So what’s the other 30?”

“Uh, sitting with me, her one-to-one, in a quiet space, reading, colouring or in the Inclusion Unit, with children with similar additional needs.”

“Do they work?”

“Yes, a lot of the time.”

“We’re on the waiting list for ADHD medication, but I don’t think Adderall XR will be suitable for her; think they’ve got like kids’ Ritalin, though.”

“You on it?”

“Ritalin? No, I’m on Adderall XR, 30mg. I’ve got Adult ADHD and Adult Asperger’s; well, now known as HFASD – Sorry, High Functioning Autistic Spectrum Disorder, or simply High Functioning Autistic. Which is peculiar, as my wife was pregnant, not I.”

“Genes, genetics, mutations, and learning or behavioural disorders are a funny thing.”

“Yeah, we established that. Is she doing okay in School?”

“Mostly, yes.”

“Meaning?”

“She’s had a few meltdowns about various things – from not being fish fingers on a Friday, to her polo shirt scratching her, to it is being too noisy in the classroom. She’s highly intelligent, so she is in Ms Tully’s class, but she struggles with sensory and so we have me, as her one-to-one to make sure she’s doing okay. And she has her sensory toys and is allowed to leave the classroom if it gets too much. She is doing very well with her School work, once she’s focused, or quite often, _hyperfocused_ , so she is getting excellent marks. It’s just finding the balance of getting her focused, but also giving her breaks as she tends to get so wrapped up in her work that she has tried to work through the recess periods; I tell her that she has 5 minutes to stop working, and then 4 minutes, until I get to 1 minute and then at 1 minute, she knows that she has to finish what she’s writing. And then I countdown from 30 to 0 and when I hit zero, her pencil goes down and she gets her sensory toy, which she has now.”

“Seems effective.” You chuckle. “Erin might need to use that one on me… Although, I dare say she’s gonna steal Dave’s idea of the odour generating alarm, to make sure I leave for work, or leave for an appointment in advance.”

“Ah, so that’s where the hyperfocus comes from… yourself.”

“Yes, trait of Attention Deficit Disorder and Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder, I’m afraid… Although why I didn’t give their acronyms is beyond me. Also, you talking to me is distracting me from my own Autistic Meltdown. Usually, Erin helps, but today she isn’t and I’m not sure why.”

“Because you spend so long with Mom that you need a distraction by talking to someone outside family, which includes Auntie Abby and Auntie Patty.”

“Oh, you okay, now?” you ask, directing your attention to your daughter.

“Yup, the lights helps me; they’re not too bright, see…” she shows you the ball and you notice that there are little holes in the surface, where the lights are and there are coloured filters, made of plastic, which coincide with each colour – they light up in a specific pattern and it serves not only as a distraction, but also as repetition and satisfaction. You smile at it and ask to play with it. She hands it to you and you stare at the ball, mesmerised by the colours, which are, and this is the cool part, motion-activated.

The competition results are about to start and you give Jane a quick cuddle before heading towards the rows of chairs, where each student and adult visitor are required to sit – with the teachers filing in at the back and the sides of the hall. You sit near the front with Erin and Jane comes to sit in between you. Whether she wins or loses the competition, she’s still a winner to you and you’ve got a plan to treat her to a special meal.

The Principal addresses the room, after quietening it down. “Okay, so the judges have seen each student’s Science Project and although everyone has worked hard, there can only be three winners. Third place prize receives a $5 Amazon gift card, second place receives a $10 Amazon gift card and first place receives a $15 gift card! But, I will stress, to make sure it’s okay with Mom and Dad before you use them, don’t want anyone getting into trouble.” She chuckles and Jane sighs.

The judges discuss for a moment and then hands Principal Hewitt an envelope containing three names, their projects and their teachers’ names inside. Ms Hewitt clears her throat and opens the envelope slowly to create suspense. Jane blows a raspberry, catches Erin’s eye and sits quietly. Ms Hewitt completes opening the envelope. “In third place, from Mr Milne’s class, is Jon Crossby with his volcano, which utilises Hydrogen Peroxide and Potassium Iodide, to create the volcanic eruption. Jon, please come up here and collect your prize.”

Jon, a chubby lad with a bad haircut bounds towards the stage, thrilled to have even one a prize.

“Next up, we have, from Ms Tully’s class is Ama—oh, sorry, no, we have Jane Holtzbert, with her _Pepper’s Ghost_!”

You whoop and clap enthusiastically, standing to your feet as Jane goes to collect her gift card. She flushes red with embarrassment and Erin tries to tug your clothing to sit you back down.

“Jane’s _Pepper’s Ghost_ utilizes light to create an illusion.”

“ _It’s way more than that.”_ You whisper, finally sitting down.

“And finally, in first place, from Mr Arin’s class, is Derek with his robotic arm. It can pick up objects with a fully operational hand. Well done to all three winners, and well done to all the students who each receive House Points!”

The raucous applause gets louder and you hear a man booming from the back: “That’s my boy! Way to go Dez!”

“ _Oh, so I’m told to sit down, and he gets to yell out. C’mon, Erin!”_ You whisper.

_“Oh, quit your whining, our girl won something.”_

_“Yeah, Ma. They’re all idiots anyway; the whole family are stuck up. You don’t wanna be like them.”_

_“No, I don’t wanna be an idiot, or act like an idiot.”_ You reply, reclining into your chair.

Principal Hewitt gives some boring speech about class tests and how the students should all study and then she mentions words you never dreamed of hearing from a Middle School Principal’s mouth. “Ms Tully and Mr Milne’s classes will be going on two field trips in two weeks’ time, to the New York Hall of Science and Queens Zoo, respectively. The journey is an hour, via the Ed Koch Queensboro Bridge. Ms Tully’s class will be going to the Science Museum and Mr Milne’s class shall be going on to the zoo. We are aiming to get two minibuses for the class, due to the cost and the timings of each place being different, and consent forms are here by the stage.” She picks up a handful. “Thank you for attending today’s Science Fair, and we look forward to seeing these bright sparks for the field trips!”

You get up from your seat and make a beeline for a consent form. Turning around you see Derek’s Dad standing unnervingly close to you.

“C-can I help you?”

“Yah, I wanna say well done to your kid. She did good, you must be proud.”

His mouth smells like garlic and you try so hard not to gag. “Thank you, yeah, we are. And well done to your son too.”

“Thank you. She goin’ on the field trip?”

“It’s a Science Museum, we’re Scientists, so yah.”

“You’re a Scientist huh? You don’t look like one; thought you were a painter, with that, uh… overalls.”

“I’m not wearing my lab coat.” You reply wryly.

“Yeah, can’t bring those into informal situations. Gotta keep them bacteria-free.”

“I’m not a Biologist.” You say, flatly. “I’m a Physicist. I do a little bit of Chemistry too, but I’m a Physicist.”

“Why would you need a lab coat?”

“Because I play with Chemicals as I do my Physics; they coincide a lot of the time. And because swishy white lab coats, with a pen in the pocket is the epitome of ‘cool’.”

“Is it really? Well, colour me impressed…” he reads your nametag. “Mrs Holtzbert.”

“Thanks, well, gotta go.”

He sighs, and breathes his garlic breath all over you. You wrinkle your nose and walk off, puffing your cheeks and pretending to gag when your back is towards him.

 _“He had garlic breath.”_ You whisper as you approach your family. _“Can we go please, I think I need to bleach my nostrils.”_

 _“Mama, that will hurt, and only make the insides white. Here, smell these…”_ She opens a bag of beef and onion crisps and holds them under your nose. You pinch a small handful, pop them all at once into your mouth and _crunch_ them vigorously.

“Mm, gimme more.”

“No, Ma, they’re mine.”

You frown. “Yeah, but Mom bought them.”

Jane sighs and literally hands you two extra crisps.

“Stingy.”

“Holtz, we’ll get you some Pringles, okay?”

“Meh…” you consider the deal “…okay, that’s fair.”

The three of you leave together and head towards the car. Just as you reach the car, your phone rings in your pocket; it’s been a while since it’s been on loud, that you’ve forgotten that ‘ _Cruel Summer’_ is your ringtone.

“Okay, where’s that song coming from? Can anyone else hear it?”

Erin sighs. “Holtz, it’s your ringtone.”

“Oh, shit, so it is. Been a while.”

“Please don’t curse in front of Jane.”

“Mom, I’m 6, I can handle it.”

“I don’t care if you’re 6, 16, 26 or 66, Mama isn’t supposed to swear in front of you. Honey, that’s 10¢ to the ‘Swear Jar’ when we get home.”

You sigh, loudly, before grabbing your mobile and swiping left on the caller. You pocket it and carry on walking.

“Who was it?”

“My Mom.”

“Nanny called?”

“Yeess…”

“And you _didn’t_ answer. Why?”

“Because I’m tired today, Jane, and I can’t be bothered with a verbal abuse from my Mom.”

“How do you know what she’s gonna say?”

“I don’t, Janey, I just don’t wanna talk to her.”

“But what if she was ringing about me?”

Erin’s phone rings.

“Oh, well, that’s probably her now.” You sigh, rolling your eyes.

“Oh hey, Karen, yes, she’s here, I’ll put her on now. Uh, no, Jill’s phone is playing up.” She lies, glaring at you. Erin hands the phone to Jane.

“Hi Nanny.

_“Hello, poppet. How was the Science Fair?”_

“Yeah, it was amazing!”

_“Did you win?”_

“Yeah, I came second place.”

_“Oh, I am so proud of you! We’ll get ice cream to celebrate, next time you’re around, okay, dear?”_

“Thanks, Nanny! I love ice cream!”

You and Erin exchange glances and watch Jane wander off as she’s still on the phone. She begins pacing back and forth and you realise that’s what you do when on the phone. You find yourself staring intensely at her and only realise when she frowns at you points her index and middle fingers towards her eyes and then at you, in the direction of your eyes.

You shrug and look away pointing at the car, and opening the back door for her. She gets in, still on the phone and talks loudly and animatedly about the Science Fair and all the projects.

Erin tries to get Jane’s attention so that she will settle in the car, so as to not distract you, but it proves to be futile.

“Okay Nanny, I’ll tell Mama and Mom you said ‘hi’.”

_“Love you, monkey.”_

“Love you too, Nanny.” Jane hands the phone back to Erin, who says ‘hello’ to the dead-tone.

“Oh.” She replies. “Bye then.” She says, locking the screen and putting it in the door pocket.

“Hung up on you?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Yeah, well…” you don’t finish your sentence; you don’t need to, Erin is fully aware of what you intend to say.

You drive home in silence, a rarity from all of you and you pull up outside the apartment, just as it begins to rain.

“Lovely, just lovely.” You say, as you wait for the gates to open. You drive into your allotted _Dr. J Holtzmann_ space and sigh. “Do I have to change the name?”

“How much did the sign cost?”

“$25.”

“Is that all?”

“Yes…”

“Then, maybe you should change it to Dr J Holtzbert, considering you’re married.”

“I know, but in theory I’m not a Doctor anymore.”

“You’ll always be a Doctor, you have a Doctorate and a PhD, that’s what matters.”

“Alright, I’ll get on to the state of New York first thing Monday morning.”

“Will you actually, or will I have to remind you eight million times before you do it?” Erin asks, raising an eyebrow at you.

“Uh, maybe only six million times.”

“How about I tell you and you do it?”

“Urgh, fine.” You sigh and switch off the engine. Removing your belt, you wait for the rain to stop.

No sooner had you entered the lobby of the apartment when you get another phone call. This time, it’s Abby, so you answer it.

“Hey Abs.”

_“Hey Holtz. Whatever you’re doing, you need to stop right now and get to the lab. It’s an absolute shitstorm here!”_

“Oh, Christ, what’s happened?”

_“Kevin dropped some chemicals, the alarms on the Containment Unit have been blaring for the last ten minutes, and the Black Slime in the vial is going haywire, and by that I mean, it’s bubbling and expanding.”_

“Holy shi—take mushrooms!”

“I’m not entirely sure if we’re gonna be able to get a babysitter for Jane in time… Erin, ring your parents, now.”

“Why, what’s happening, Mama?”

“Uh, we gotta go to work.”

“Aww, whhhhy?” Jane whinges.

“Shit’s hit the fan in work, sweetie. It’s all got fucked up… Ah, bugger.”

“That’s 30¢ for the s-word and that’s $2 for the f-word, Holtz.”

“Mama, you owe $2.30 now. Keep it up.” She giggles, and you shake your head.

Erin finally gets through to her parents. “Hi Mom. We’ve got trouble at the lab, I know it’s short notice, but can you get here as soon as possible?”

“Uh, with the traffic it’s gonna take at least 40 minutes to get to you.”

“Oh, shoot.”

“Wut?” you say to Erin, half-hearing what Abby has to say.

“40 minutes due to traffic.”

“Fuck.” You sigh. “Oh, fuck that’s another… urgh…”

“6 dollars!” Jane exclaims, strangely proud of the fact that you’re racking up a bill.

“Alright, alright! Hey Abs, we’re gonna have to bring Jane with us, Erin’s parents won’t be able to get here for 40 minutes; the lab’s closer to them anyway.”

“ _She’ll have to stay in reception with Kevin, but you might wanna… oh, God… Patty, should the CU be doing that?”_

 _“(Uh, I dunno, dude, ask Holtzman!)”_ You can just about hear Patty on the other side of the phone, slightly muffled by the sound of the alarm.

_“Uh, Holtz, should the CU be smoking?”_

“No, no, no, no, no…. _Definitely not._ Erin, we have to go _now._ Jane, get in the car.”

“But Ma…”

“We haven’t got time for ‘buts’, please, just get in and buckle up.”

Erin hangs up from her conversation and gets in the front passenger seat. You put the phone in the phone-holder attached to the aircon grill. You really, _really_ wish you had the Ectomobile now, but it’s in the workshop and Erin wanted to take the Camaro as it is somewhat ‘less flashy’ than the Caddy. You reverse out of the space, and swing the Camaro violently around so you’re in full view of the gate and the road.

“Y’all belted?” you ask, which should have been the first question before doing a quick-fire manoeuvre.

“Yes, Ma.”

“Holtzmann be careful.”

You two-finger salute her and wait for the automatic gate to re-open. Slamming the car into gear, you rev the engine aggressively. As soon as the gates are open fully, you slam your foot on the accelerator, release the clutch and you’re gunning it down the road. You swerve in and out of cars and run a red-light. You forget that this car does not have special paint on the number plate to hide it from the speed cameras and soon, there’s a blinding flash in your rear-view mirror and the sound of sirens fills the air.

“Holtz, did you just get flashed by that speed camera and are those police after us?”

“Uhhhh…” you continue driving erratically and ignore the police car following you. This is the first time you’ve ever been in a high-speed chase, and you’re not going to be winning ‘Mother of the Year’ any time soon.

“Holtz, this is a _poor_ example to be setting for our 6 year old.”

“Okay, Jane, when you learn to drive, _stick_ to the speed limits, unless you have a siren, in which case, screw the rules.”

“No, no, ignore your Mama. You _will_ stick to the speed limits at _all_ times, okay Jane?”

“Yes, Mom.”

You feel the rage rising up inside of you and you try so hard not to shout, but instead you speak with aggression in your voice. “I’m just going to point out that if we _do_ stick to the speed limits, Erin, then there is a chance, I don’t know what percentage it is, but there is a _chance_ that the _entire_ lab could blow up and shutdown power to the whole grid, so, and I will put $20 dollars into the ‘Swear Jar’, I couldn’t give a flying fuck if we’re gonna get arrested for speeding and have a fucking speeding fine. My Containment Unit is billowing smoke, along with the goddamn alarms blaring, and the Black Slime is changing shape, and, as per Ab’s description, it’s getting bigger in that vial, and I am _not_ about to fucking lose my two best friends in a huge-ass motherfucking explosion, Erin. So, I’m sorry, but the cops can suck my dick, because this is a fucking life-or-death situation and I _will_ save my friends’ lives, goddamn it!” you inhale deeply and exhale slowly from your nose, calming yourself down. “Jane, please ignore all of those curse words, okay, and please, _please_ don’t repeat them. Okay? I love you, and I love your Mom, but I’m very annoyed right now, okay, honey, but please don’t listen to the bad words Mama said, alright?”

“Okay, Mama. I love you too. I don’t want Auntie Abby or Auntie Patty to die.”

The police start to talk to you over a loudspeaker.

“STOP THE CAR! PULL OVER NOW!”

You bite your bottom lip, stuck between a rock and a hard place. If you pull over, you risk the blowing up of the lab, and if you continue, the cops may shoot at you for resisting arrest. You groan loudly and pull over. Switching the engine off, you slam the base of your hand into the steering wheel, and jam your head into the headrest. Teeth gritted, blood boiling, you wait for the officer to show up at your window.

You unwind the window at the police officer’s arrival. “License and registration, ma’am.” He says.

You sigh, and Erin grabs them from the glovebox.

“Is this your vehicle, ma’am?”

“Actually, it’s mine, sir.” Erin replies.

“And are you insured to drive it?”

“Yes, sir, I am.” Erin hands you the insurance documents which indicates you’re telling the truth. You hand them to him. He glances over them and hands them to his colleague.

“You have a minor with you and you’re speeding?”

“Yes sir, sorry sir.” You respond.

“Jillian Holtzbert?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Please step out of the vehicle.”

You do as you’re told and follow him to the back of the Camaro. He handcuffs you, but you don’t resist.

“Can you tell me why you’re speeding, Holtzbert?”

“Uh, yes. I am a Scientist and a Ghostbuster and there is a very dangerous situation at my laboratory. The Containment Unit is currently under stress and is basically breaking down and my three friends are at the lab and there’s two consequences of me not getting there on time. 1) The Containment Unit explodes and shuts down power to the whole City and 2) My Containment Unit explodes, destroys the lab and kills my three best friends, and then I’ll potentially be locked up for manslaughter. And I’m not even joking either, if you go into my right pocket, you’ll locate my wallet and inside my wallet is my ID badge, issued by the State of New York, which says that I am a licensed Paranormal Investigator. My wife is also a Paranormal Investigator.”

The male officer nods to his colleague, a female, who dips her hand in your pocket and retrieves your wallet. She opens it and pulls out the ID badge.

“She’s telling the truth, Sarge, look at this.” She shows it to him, he frowns and starts making notes.

“Says here that you’ve been arrested before.”

“Falsely.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning Jennifer Lynch had to arrest us to cover up our work, making it look like a hoax. That was in 2016 and then the Mayor dropped all charges, bailed us out and then made reports that everything was to be believed and that we were allowed to continue with our work.”

“Hmm…” the male officer says, disbelievingly. “I’m gonna have to issue you a warning. See that you _don’t_ do it again. Now…” he takes the handcuffs off. “Go save your friends and the City!” He nods at the female officer who hands you back your wallet and ID. He tears off a piece of paper and gets back into the car. They drive off and leave you to think about what’s happened.

“What did they say, baby?”

“Gave me a warning, but told me to go save the City. Honey, Jane, babygirl, don’t ever, _ever_ speed, okay?”

“Yes, Mama.”

You ring Abby and put her on loudspeaker. “Abs?”

_“Yeah?”_

“Talk to me.”

_“We’re out, the pressure gauge was rising too much. Fire brigade have been called. Where are you?”_

“Uh, I got caught speeding. They issued me a warning, but told me to save y’all, so I _am_ on my way.”

 _“Great example for my niece!”_ Abby sighs.

“Alright, don’t be an ass, like Erin.”

_“Don’t teach Jane the wrong things.”_

“Alright! God, I’m sorry, okay. I’m sorry for swearing and speeding and teaching Jane the wrong things. I don’t need a lecture. Do me a favour though, Abs…”

_“What’s that?”_

“Get Ecto-1B away from there. I can’t have her blowing up!”

_“I’m in the car already. Just waitin’ on Kevin.”_

“What’s Kevin doin’?”

“ _God knows. Patty, get Kevin, would ya?”_

_“(A’right, gotcha!”)_

_“Right, Kevin’s here, where d’ya want us to go?”_

“Uh, Brooklyn Bridge – head that way. But take Erin and Jane with you. We’ll be ten minutes.”

_“Is it gonna hold?”_

“I-I, uhh, I honestly don’t know.”

You keep driving, now sticking to the speed limits and reassuring Abby than you’re nearly there.

You pass through a green light and keep on driving, trying to remember the short cuts, and then taking them.

As if you’re there with them, you hear the sound of a small explosion somewhere in the distance; presumably either a gas canister, the Black Slime, or the pressure valve on the Ghost Containment Unit; but, whatever it is, it frightens you. “SHIT, ABBY!! OH, MY GOD! ABBY! PATTY! TALK TO ME!”

_“Yeah, we’re here. That rocked the car.”_

“Oh, thank God. Get out of there, NOW!”

_“On it.”_

You risk it and step on the accelerator. Weaving in and out of cars, you slow for a red light, but thankfully it instantaneously turns to amber and then green. You floor it and zip over the hatched box on the floor.


	54. Chapter 52

Skidding to a halt right behind Ecto-1B, tyres squealing on the road surface, you order Jane and Erin out of the car and into the Ectomobile.

“How is that gonna help? How are you gonna get away?” Erin asks.

“With the Camaro, babe. Now go, get Jane and the girls and Kevin out of here!”

“So you’re gonna risk your life for us?”

“I have to… I can’t live with myself if any of you die. I made the GCU, I’m the only one who can prevent it from exploding. Trust me, Erin.”

Jane has already left the car. You pull Erin in for a hug and kiss her long and deep.

“If, if I don’t make it, tell Jane and the others that I love them and I’m sorry I failed you.”

“No, don’t you _dare_ say that, Holtz. You _will_ get through; you _have_ to, I-I can’t live without you, it’ll kill me.” Erin replies, her cheeks already wet with tears.

“Go now, please. I can’t have you around here if something goes wrong. If you won’t do it for me, then do it for Jane. Protect our daughter.”

“This is nuts, why won’t you let the fire brigade help?”

“They will only be able to put out fires, they won’t be able to stop it exploding. Where’s the dosimetry device and the Hazmat suit?”

“Hanging up in the closet labelled ‘Hazmat Suit’. The dosimetry device should be in the breast pocket.”

“Okay.” You kiss her again and watch her get into the Ecto and it drive off, before you gulp and head into the overly dangerous, unstable laboratory.

Once inside, you dash first to the ‘Hazmat Suit’ closet and throw it on over your clothes, making sure that the helmet is snug, the sleeves are tucked into your gloves, the trouser legs are tucked into the special wellies, and that there are no gaps in the material for any radiation to get through. You head towards Kevin’s desk and pick up Abby’s camcorder, which is plugged into the laptop on the surface. You unplug it, after checking the battery is fully charged, and then head down into the basement where the Ghost Containment Unit is currently blaring its alarms. As you wander down, you switch on the camera and press record.

“Okay, Holtzmann, J. Dr of … Ah, fuck it, you know my titles. Okay, descending into the abyss that is the basement, preparing myself for the worst. Ghost Containment Unit – hereafter referred to as ‘GCU’ – is billowing smoke and the alarms are blaring. I would run, but knowing me, I would fall down the stairs, and I don’t know how unstable she is.” You keep the camera rolling as the noise becomes deafening. You set the camera down on a metal table and point it at the GCU. Trying to remain calm, you wander over to your laptop, with a bit of speed, and wiggle the mouse. It immediately wakes up, but you find that the screen has been locked – something which you never do, as it takes too long to sign in (and something which Erin, more than likely, has done to protect your important documents, blueprints and notes, to avoid them being stolen, hacked and/or falling into the wrong hands – like another Rowan; not that they’re not encrypted anyway!) You type in the password and wait for it to spring into action and log you in.

You navigate to the desktop app which is linked to the GCU and you read the data stream – numbers rolling up the screen, Matrix-style. You scan it for abnormalities, aware that the pressure gauge is nearing dangerous levels. You tap around on the keyboard and the alarms cut off, the spinning red light stopping; just as well, it was beginning to give you a headache. You feel stupid in the Hazmat suit, but you keep it on, just in case.

As you’re scanning the screen, a warning sound emits from the laptop’s speakers, making your heart thump violently in your chest. You type for a while, your eyes darting over the screen, trying to read the succession of words and numbers; equations and computer programming, as fast as it is zipping by. You manage to go back a few stages, to where the alarm _bleeped_ and you bring it back up; it’s a faulty wire, hence the pressure skyrocketing and smoke billowing from the microscopic gaps in the sides of the door.

Nothing you can’t fix, but you suddenly realise just how hot it is down here. You look at the dosimetry pinned to the breast pocket and your eyes widen. Picking up the camcorder, you point the lens at yourself and, spinning the attached pop-out screen around, so you can see what you’re doing, you point it at your badge.

“Radioactive levels are uh… a _bit_ higher than they should be… so I ain’t stayin’ down here for too long, but I _do_ need to fix the machine before I can leave, but in order to do tha’, I do need to run a few tests, and data samples and cross-checks and I, er, do need to rewire the GCU and replace the faulty wire and reduce the levels of Beta Radiation within the Unit, secondary to the Gamma Rays being reduced, and then maybe, just maybe, I can stop ‘er blowin’ up. Buuut, it’s gonna take some time, and whilst I’m not short of time, myself, I don’t know how long the GCU is gonna last without causing a Nuclear Explosion, which I’m worried about. Mainly because it, errrr, could kill everyone in a, erm… 100 mile radius? Hmm… theeee City… we’ll go with the City. So, Holtzmann to the rescue? Fingers crossed, guys… But, erm, if I don’t make it…” you stop, place the camera on the desk, on a stack of books and sit on the stool. You want to take your helmet off, but you know that it is highly dangerous, because even though you said the Radiation levels are ‘a bit high’, they’re actually disastrously high, and the needle is just in the red-zone, indicating that you probably shouldn’t be there.

You look sombrely into the camera, purse your lips inside the helmet, link your fingers together, in your lap, and sniff, before continuing. “If I, erm, don’t make it, I just want you to know that I’m sorry I failed you. I’m sorry I destroyed New York City, I’m sorry I wasn’t a better scientist who knew how to prevent this from happening. I’ve let myself down, New York City down, and, worst of all, my friends and family, the Ghostbusters down. And, erm, to my wife, Erin, I’m sorry and…” you fight back tears, a heavy lump forming in your throat. You sniff again, visibly upset. “Erin, I’m sorry that I let you down and that our beautiful daughter, Jane, has to know life without me. I’m sorry for everything that I put you through, with my ADHD and Asperger’s meltdowns and my outbursts. I’m sorry for hurting you, when I was hurting the most. And Jane, I’m sorry that Mama had to sacrifice herself to make sure you had a decent future and that you could maybe, I dunno, follow in her footsteps… or, or not, I dunno; your world is yours, your life is yours, just… make good choices, and be good for Mom, your Aunties and the rest of the family. To Abby, I never really thought I would have a friend until I met you and I’m glad I did meet you, because you taught me friendship and you taught me how to love myself and to love others, long before Erin was in the picture. Patty – you taught me to stand tall; well, as tall as my 5’3” ass could stand!” you chuckle lightly. “You taught me to fight for my friends, fight for what I believe in, fight for what’s right and to never back down, and I love you, man, I love all of you. Even you Kevin, you big dummy! The best thing that’s ever come out of your mouth is: ‘How can you expect someone to love you, if you can’t love yourself?’ and that’s the smartest shit to ever come out of your dumbass mouth; but without you, we wouldn’t be able to answer the phones, or to, sort of, keep a record of all the ghost sightings, so, uh, yeah, man, thanks. And to New York City: We were ready to believe in you, when no one else did, so thank you for believing in us when others thought we couldn’t do it – especially those who said ‘ain’t no bitches gonna hunt some ghosts’; we proved ‘em wrong, but thank you for your support.” You do your usual Lesbian Salute, nod your head a couple of times, lick your lips, sniff hard (evidence of you crying silently) and set about trying to stop the Containment Unit from exploding with a cataclysmic effect.

* * *

With the camera still rolling, you head back to the laptop and stare blankly at the screen. You should know how to stop it, but you don’t know how to stop it, and that’s what scares you the most. As you stare, vacantly, glued to the spot, a pattern drifts into view, before disappearing. You watch the screen, ignoring the smoke, and notice the pattern again.

“It can’t be…” you say in a monotone. “But it is…” You grab a pen and paper and start to scribble down the code, the one which keeps repeating itself. Shaking your head, you know what it means, but you’re afraid of it being the truth. You press the ‘restore down’ button on the application and open the Command Prompt, typing away some codes. You ‘scroll’ through the air, with your fingers, eyes darting left and right across the screen, head largely staying in one place. You frown and let your eyes widen in confusion. Your gloved right hand, flies to where your mouth is in the helmet and you stand, stock still, eyes wide now in horror.

You take several seconds to compose yourself, then copy the repeated code from the paper to the screen, trying to locate it. You curse to yourself as the Command Prompt freezes trying to run through a backlog of coding, Unicode, programming and scientific equations; which somehow are needed to make the GCU run smoothly.

The Command Prompt finally locates the code and you begin typing furiously, amending the code you wrote down, so it’s similar, but that the ‘error’ within it is no longer there. You heart is thumping and you’re now sweating buckets, but you don’t care, you have to fix this system error, no matter how dangerous the Radiation Levels are now getting. You open a third window, which is an digitalised, internal view of the GCU (a long time you added a mini camera, in a Titanium case to withstand the heat and pressure, and to keep an eye on the internals.) You flap your hands about pointing between the Command Prompt on the left, the main system application called ‘BetaVision’.

You ponder for a moment, and then suddenly remember some important information that you _really_ shouldn’t have forgotten. This has happened before! The only difference is the first time it had happened, the ghosts had all been sent to Michigan, so what was happening now?

You continue typing and cross-referencing, before opening a drawer in the desk and discovering a piece of paper attached to a clipboard. You look between the notes on your desk and the notes in your hand, to discover that it’s the same information. You quickly scan your notes ignoring the red, blue, yellow and green safety lights which are still blinking rapidly. _“Safety lights are for dudes.”_ You mutter to yourself. As you’re reading over the multiple applications and your hand-scribbled notes, you remember that you had installed a large red button on the wall above the Containment Unit and marked it as ‘EMERGENCY SHUTDOWN’. You sigh at yourself, drop the clipboard onto the desk, locate a step ladder, climb it and thump the big red button.

Immediately it stops smoking and begins to cool down with a _hiss_. You know that it will continue to cool down, allowing the pressure and Radiation Levels to drop and then the extractor fan, located inside a vent near the ceiling, will draw the polluted air through and into a filter system, (which you devised as a backup for this very event occurring,) before expelling it into the outside air.

Granted you probably should have done that first, but you didn’t want to break it further by switching it off before discovering the root cause. You check the dosimetry device and notice the needle is dropping from the red zone to the yellow zone, and you notice the pressure gauge, behind a cracked glass panel, is also dropping. You shake your head – how could you be so stupid. You managed to stop it from tripping before, not registering that the faulty wiring within the system could re-activate whatever was happening before.

Now it’s time to go over your notes.

You begin comparing the notes in a slightly more stable environment than an overzealous pressure-cooker. You’re pleasantly surprised that a big explosion didn’t occur, and kill you instantly, but at the same time, you’re weirdly disappointed, because, you enjoy the excitement of things exploding, and sometimes love watching things burn. You’ve been tested for pyromania (with negative results) and just figured that the fascination of things going _boom_ is just part and parcel of your personality. Perhaps that’s why you’re such an oddball and why 98.5% of the things you make, break and create have been set on fire, including yourself (which, as much as you like to keep up a tough exterior for the girls, really, _really_ hurt, but thankfully wasn’t too serious) and why a lot of your gadgets are of the exploding variety – such as the Proton Grenades… in fact, any of the weapons with ‘Proton’ in its title are powerful enough to cause some sort of explosion, and you revel in the fact.

As you study your notes, two things come into mind: 1) if all the ghosts are in Michigan, what was wrong with the GCU and 2) what happens if the GCU reversed itself, like reversing the polarity of the portal, and somehow all of the ghosts, 7 years’ worth, have suddenly come rushing back into this plane and you’ve accidentally started another apocalypse? You don’t know what frightens you the most, but you have to admit, both of those seem like probable outcomes. You swallow loudly and begin examining the ‘BetaVision’ software for any viruses and other malware.

You get another alert on the PC and this time it’s from the internals of the CU:

‘RADIATION LEVEL: 0%’.

You check your dosimetry: it’s fully at the bottom end of the green zone. You run a quick test of the air – focusing on the vent and notice that it’s done its job and that, truly, the air filter has sucked out and processed all the radioactive air and chemicals and that it is 100% safe to breathe again. You double check the system; triple check them, before unsealing your helmet and taking it off. You breathe in deep – it had got rather stuffy in there, and you sigh with relief.

“Air is 100% back to normal.” You grab the camcorder and point it to the screen, which reads: ‘RADIATION LEVEL: 0%’ in a big green box. You puff your cheeks out and force air through your lips.

“Okay, so now that everything is stable, I can confirm that the Ghost Containment Unit has been shut down, which means, no more ghosts can be trapped and stored and any that were previously in there have been expelled to Michigan… I hope. Anyway, it’s all good. Disaster averted. I need to fix her and replace some faulty wiring, so this doesn’t happen again and we’re good to go. Told ya I’d do it!” you say, trying to convince yourself that you knew _exactly_ what you were doing and there was _not_ a chance that you were about to die; no matter how exciting that seemed to you – dying a hero.

You pull the gloves off your hands and rub your sweaty palms on the front of your trousers, before fumbling around with the zip – you managed to do it up with a coat hanger, but down here there’s nothing of that variety and you don’t want to contaminate the rest of the Firehouse so you dance around trying to unzip your boiler suit. Eventually you pull the zip as far down as your hand can reach from atop your shoulder and your other hand reaches up the back, so your fingertips meet, before you grab the material attached to the end of the zipper and tug it downwards. Stepping out of it, you realise you still have your wellies on, and then have to pull them off, without falling over, before you get the Hazmat suit off. Dumping it all in a bright yellow bag marked _Radiation_ , you disappear off upstairs, leaving the camera still recording, to grab the tools necessary for the job.

You ignore the phone ringing on Kevin’s desk and concentrate on the task in hand – although, you stop first to take your meds before wandering up to the third floor and your lab. You hum to yourself, strangely jolly for someone who could have died, and take the stairs two at a time. Passing the shared workspace on the second floor, you poke your head around the door and see how tidy it is, you shake your head, Erin’s OCD has certainly got the better of her. You continue your ascent and wander through the door into the whirlwind of your lab; Patty’s side, as ever, is neat and tidy and yours, as always, is awash with gadgets, skeletons of gadgets, wires, tools, blueprints and general mess. You notice a layer of dust on the books on the windowsill and register that their covers have faded from being in the sun. You shrug and rummage through your tool drawer.

Tools in hand, you wander back down the stairs, now wearing your combat boots and welding goggles and set about pulling apart the panel to the side of the containment unit. This houses all the wires and you immediately locate the scorched one – no wonder it was faulty, it had melted itself! You sigh, and cut it out with pliers.

* * *

Ten minutes and a load of cursing later you have re-wired the Ghost Containment Unit, so that no more will it overheat and near explosion levels. You check to see that any remaining ghosts have been deported to Michigan and you nod at your handiwork. You sigh and lick your lips, before realising, as your stomach growls loudly, that you’re hungry and so you should probably go and have something to eat. Of course, the first order of business is to alert the others that you’re safe and sound and New York City has been saved again.

You stop the camera recording and notice that it’s about an hours’ worth of footage, shrugging, you switch it off and pocket it. You power up the Containment Unit to check that everything is in full working order, but get bored waiting for it to reboot. You disappear off upstairs and return exactly 4 minutes later, coffee mug in hand. The Unit has rebooted itself and you run a full systems and diagnostics check and are pleased with the result. You write yourself a note on a green Post-It, which says:

You saved NYC again, Holtz! Make sure this doesn’t happen again, you dumbass. (Also, double-check where the ghosties end up; make sure it’s Lansing and not backfired to NYC!)

You attached the sticky note to the laptop screen and lock it, for the first time yourself, before heading back topside and into the fresh air.

Once outside you sigh, before inhaling long and deep. You go to take out your mobile, but can’t find it, so head back inside. It’s sitting there atop an old copy of the _New York Times_. You pick it up, put it in your pocket and then pick up and unfold the newspaper, before reading the headline aloud: “‘British Stun World with Vote to Leave E.U. Split Court Stifles Obama on Immigration’. Well, sounds like a shitstorm.” You read the date: “‘Friday, June 24, 2016.’ Hmm, I wonder how Britain’s doing now…” You put the newspaper down again, and find yourself looking up the state of Britain and it’s ‘Brexit’ Policy – still ongoing, much to everyone’s dismay it seems. “Still, pro’ly better than Trump!”

Outside again, you begin to head towards the edge of the pavement, ready to cross over the road, and then you stop dead in your tracks.

“Oh, no, no, no, no, no… Shit, shit, shit. The Black Slime I totally forgot. Holtzmann, you idiot.” You slam the palm of your hand into your forehead and spin on your heel, to re-enter the Firehouse. The last time you saw it, it was on Abby’s desk and the last time Abby saw it, it was expanding and bubbling.

You run inside, slamming the door behind you and race up the stairs. Dashing inside the first area, you run to Abby’s desk and discover that she was very much right. The Black Slime, which was in a small vial, and which is now smashed on the floor, is currently oozing out at an indeterminable speed, bubbling, and spitting as it does so. It reminds you a little bit of Venom, but you’re not sure whether you need to be worried, or if you are actually impressed.

You go with the former and start rifling through Abby’s notes to find more information on its properties. You come across one in block capitals:

HIGHLY CAUSTIC; DO NOT TOUCH!

KEVIN… STAY AWAY!

HOLTZ… DON’T TOUCH IT WITHOUT PROTECTIVE GEAR ON!

You find some more notes and realise they’re your own, but you don’t remember writing them. You think back to when you found the Slime at the Transit Museum, which is where this seeping mess is from and then remember the Slime you found in the library (which your notes refer to). There has to be some connection. You read your sloppy handwriting aloud:

“‘ _Eleanor Twitty, Librarian Ghost. Black Ectoplasmic Slime surrounding her feet in a rather subordinate amount. Have collected a sample of the Slime, in Pepsi bottle. Bottle in bottom draw of desk; not top priority_ ’.” You stop to read a scrawl in the corner: _“‘Patty says I should not try to drink the Black Slime… too many beers… brain not ~~funxionin~~ functioning’_. Well then, bottom drawer it is, but you’d better fix this lot, Holtz.” You add, to yourself.

You shuffle through more of Abby’s notes and come across some highly important information:

‘Black Slime is a toxic and dangerous substance filled with concentrated negative energy. Black Slime is supersaturated with negative energy and is found in intersections of the Ghostworld and the Realworld. It causes severe damage to anyone who comes into contact with it. Based on its spectral resonance echo, Black Slime also appears to function as a conduit for PKE energy, and could act as a ghost portal – Holtzmann, you were right! Also, Black Slime acts as a magnet to other Black Slime goo and they stick together and spread out.’

You look at the Black Slime still spreading over the floor and realise that you have nothing to counteract it with – your equipment is in the back of the Ecto from when you left after the Transit Museum bust.

You want to test the magnetisation theory and so you head upstairs to grab the Pepsi bottle. Once you’ve found it, you hold it up to the light and then it begins to bubble and undulate. You hold the bottle in the shadow and it stops. _So, it is activated by light? How strange._ You wander downstairs and stand in front of the big pile of primordial ooze. Unscrewing the cap of the bottle you hold it above the surface and watch as the gloop stretches itself out and falls out of the neck of the bottle in one clump – like a tin of Spam which is years out of date. It _plops_ onto the already-amassed Slime on the tiles and the floor-Slime expands and covers the new stuff. You tilt your head and watch the two merge and spread out further afield.

As it spreads, it gets closer to your boots so you take a few steps back. You wonder if it’s acidic to objects. It reaches the table leg… and corrodes the metal surface, the table begins to buckle.

“Oh, noooo! Shit, Holtz. What have you doooone?!” You realise that you’re not strong enough to move the table with everything on it and so you hastily begin moving everything off Abby’s desk to Erin’s. Laptop, papers, pencils, pens; everything gets dumped on Erin’s desk and now you’re frantically searching for something to clean it up with. You have nothing, except the Air Filter Prototype. You don’t fancy setting off a grenade in close proximity, but you may very well have to. Noticing the words: ‘WEAKNESS: SLIME’ within Abby’s notes, you remember that Erin had somehow collected enough Slime over the years to use as an experimental ingredient.

You scramble upstairs to grab the grenade and some tools to strip it down with to see if you can make it less powerful. You work as quickly as you can at your desk, wrenching apart the Proton Grenade and ripping the skin on your hands as you do so; you ignore the pain and carry on pulling it apart. You have one chance to get this right, but not a lot of time to do so. You get it down to the bare-bones and inner workings and find two test tubes of Green Slime (which you had got from Erin’s overalls from the library, before she had the chance to wash them). You dump the Green Slime into the Prototype Grenade and start to weld it all back together – you just hope it’s enough.

As you get to the point where you think it’s safe, you drop everything and dash back down the stairs again. The Black Slime has corroded more of the desk, and currently, looking very similar to Venom, it’s currently rising up, like a mouth of a monster about to chow down on a sacrifice, and begins to corrode and absorb the table. You put the Proton Grenade onto Erin’s desk and heave the sofa back as far as it will go, before dragging Erin’s desk up to the sofa. You clear as much space as you can, skirting around the ever-changing goo.

You grab everything important which cannot be salvaged and put them in the corridor. The space looks rather empty and the corridor is a huge mess but anything which can be easily replaced is left to be potentially destroyed by the blast of the grenade. You shake your head and press the trigger button atop the grenade, it starts to count down from 7 so you launch it into the centre of the Slime, sprint outside, and pull the door closed behind you. You run down the stairs, and hide under Kevin’s desk until you hear a thunderous explosion and the sound of glass breaking coming from upstairs. You risk a glance upwards and notice that the ceiling hasn’t caved in, but you can’t say for certain that the windows haven’t been completely blasted outwards.

Cautiously, you crawl out from under the desk to ascertain the damage upstairs you have created. Slowly you approach the stairs and begin a very worried ascent (of course when questioned about it later, you won’t mention the fact, but at least you can admit it to yourself).

Creaking the door open you are first hit with the smell of burning, rotten and burnt flesh, with a hint of mouldy garbage – the same smell as before. You prepare yourself for the worst and swing the door open widely.

The Black Slime has gone. The bookcase is on fire and the windows are shattered, but it’s gone; gone for good.

You punch the air triumphantly and grab a fire extinguisher to put out the fire engulfing the bookcase. The desk has completely been corroded and devoured and now you have to move everything back into place and acquire a new desk for Abby before she notices – nah, that can wait!

Once everything is back in place, you smile and shake your head at the mess you’ve caused, but apart from a blackened bookcase and a missing desk, there’s very little damage caused from the explosion. Oh, and the missing second storey windows. You peer out of them and notice that there are police cars, an a S.W.A.T van situated outside.

The door downstairs bangs into the wall as its kicked open and armed police run in, covered head-to-toe in black with semi-automatic rifles and helmets on. You hear the sound of them shouting at each other: “Sweep the area, sweep the area!” and two armed police reach you in the lab.

“HANDS WHERE I CAN SEE THEM!” the one shouts. You raise your hands out to the side and rotate slowly to face them.

With two semi-automatics trained on you, you keep your mouth shut until you are spoken to.

“We were called about the sound of an explosion, possibly an IED. We have sniffer dogs and the Bomb Squad downstairs. Do you have anything to say?”

“Yes, that was a grenade. I’m a Physicist and an Engineer. There was some Black Slime in here and I didn’t have the proper tools to get rid of it, so I had to use my Air Filter Prototype Proton Grenade modified to contain Green Slime.”

“Ma’am, are you on drugs?”

“Adderall and antidepressants.”

“Any narcotics?”

“Adderall for my ADHD.”

“Cocaine? Meth? Heroin?”

“No, no, no. I’m a Ghostbuster.”

“You’re a what now?”

“A Ghostbuster. Paranormal Investigator, Senior Proton Wrangler, Munitions Expert. I made all the weapons and gadgets to take out the ghosts throughout Times Square in 2016 and every single ghost encounter since.”

“Weapons? What weapons?”

“Uhh… Proton Pack, Proton Glove, Proton Pistols, Proton Grenades, Ghost Trap, RP—No, that’s in Call of Duty.” You chuckle nervously.

“You made these?”

“Yes, sir. And if you’ll allow me to reach into the pocket of my uniform, I will show you my license and permit.”

“Go ahead.”

You reach into your pocket and pull out your wallet, for the second time that day, and hand the officer your I.D. badge. He stands at ease, puts the safety on his gun and slings it around to his back. The young female officer does the same.

“Paranormal Investigator?”

“Yes, sir. Ask Mayor Bradley.”

“So no bombs then?”

“No, sir. Just a Prototype Grenade. I got rid of some supersaturated negatively charged Black Slime. Which could, in theory, although I haven’t been able to experiment on that yet, it could create a portal between our world and the Ghostworld.”

“Shit, nooo.” The young female says.

“Rookie!”

“Sorry, Officer Bennett.”

Officer Bennett hands you back your I.D. badge and nods. He puts a finger to his ear and pulls out a walkie-talkie. “All clear up here, gentlemen. False alarm. Science experiment gone wrong. Mild explosion from a prototype grenade; all under control. The Ghostbusters are not to be charged, nor arrested.”

A young black man appears in the doorway. “Did you say ‘The Ghostbusters’, sir?”

“I did, Neil. Jillian, according to her I.D. badge, is a Ghostbuster.” Officer Bennett indicates you with an open palm.

You speak to the Rookie and Neil and they thank you, and the other ‘busters, for saving New York City back in 2016 (they don’t know the others’ names, just your job titles and that you saved New York). You have a long and convoluted conversation with them, until Officer Bennett, loudly clearing his throat, addresses you.

“Ma’am?”

“Yup?”

“Don’t let it happen again. No grenades in an indoor area, someone might think you’re a…” he lowers his voice “ _terrorist._ ”

“Noted, thank you.” You two-finger salute them and watch them leave.

With the sound of retreating footsteps you sigh and wait for the front door to slam. You hear various car doors opening and closing, engines turning over and vehicles driving off.

Dragging everything back into the lab, you try to arrange it as best you can. Except for the missing desk and blown-out windows, it looks almost good as new and you can hardly tell something has gone amiss.

You sigh again and leave the lab, calling Erin as you do so. It rings as you step outside into the cool, but sunny, air.

The phone is still ringing.

You lock the Firehouse door, and inhale slowly, before exhaling sharply.

And then unlock the door again.

Stepping back through the small cubby door, you wander back down into the basement to check that everything is stable and switched off. Satisfied, you return back upstairs, switch off the main house lights and hang up on Erin.

You speed dial Abby instead.

No answer.

“Fuck.”

You try Patty next and after a few short rings, Patty picks up.

“Yeah-lo?” she queries, as if she doesn’t have caller I.D. on her phone.

“Yo man, wassup, it’s me?”

“Who’s this?”

“Very funny. It’s me, Holtzmann.”

“Uh, I don’t know any ‘Holtzmanns’. Bye.” She hangs up.

“ _What the…?”_ You say to yourself, convinced that you’ve somehow managed to make your friends forget who you are. You try ringing her again.

“Hello?”

“Uh, hi, do you really not remember me? Dr Jillian Holtzmann? Doctor of Experimental and Theoretical Particle Physics, specialising in Nuclear Engineering? One quarter of a team of Paranormal Investigators, called ‘The Ghostbusters’? 5 foot 3 inches? Blonde hair, that’s always styled so amazingly, and blue eyes? Multiple yellow-lensed glasses for sensory difficulties? Asperger’s and ADHD? Wife to Dr Erin Jane Gilbert? Mother to Jane Holtzbert? _Any_ of these ringing a bell?”

“Uhhhh, noooope.” Patty says, sounding really confused.

You sigh, dejectedly, and sniff. “Okay, well, I must have the wrong number then. I’m, I’m sorry to have wasted your time.” You hang up and let silent tears fall; you’re overly confused, hungry and tired, and you’re convinced that you’ve just wiped out your existence from their minds – somehow.


	55. Chapter 53

You climb, disconsolately, into the Camaro and headbutt the steering wheel lightly. You don’t understand how the two youngest members of the S.W.A.T team remembered what you did, but that your friends can’t remember who you are. Begrudgingly you ring your mother.

“Hi Mommy.” You say, with a child-like voice.

_“Hi sweetest. How are you?”_

“You remember me, don’t you?”

_“I don’t have Alzheimer’s yet, so yes. Why?”_

“I just rang the girls and they don’t remember me.”

_“Who said that?”_

“Patty, Mom, she said she didn’t know any ‘Holtzmanns’. I even said I was married to Erin and had a kid and it meant nothing to her. Something really strange is going on.”

_“Let Mom get to the bottom of this. Where are you now?”_

“The lab. There was a near-accident, but I’ve fixed it now.”

_“Near-accident? What does that mean?”_

“The Ghost Containment Unit was breaking down and the Radiation Levels were unsafe. Don’t worry, the machine I set up to filter out the Radioactive air worked – I tripled checked it, and it was only me there.”

_“You’re gonna get yourself killed one of these days.”_

“I know, but not yet.”

_“Theoretically, Jillian, you should already be dead.”_

“Don’t say that.”

_“Well, it’s true. You’ve had that many concussions and trauma, that it’s a miracle that you’re still alive.”_

“But a miracle nonetheless; so you’re saying I’m _not_ cursed?”

_“No, you’re not. And before you think to mention it, forget about what I said during our tumultuous past. You’re alive now, that’s what matters, dammit.”_

“I wasn’t going to…”

 _“Uh-huh. I know that tone. Anyway, hold on, let me ring Erin.”_ She hangs up.

You drum the dashboard and change the channel on the radio, not settling on a station. You hum to yourself, then sing to yourself and finally grumble out loud, connect the phone to the in-car Bluetooth and drive to find somewhere to eat; somewhere quiet where you can think.

You end up driving for a while, before pulling into a drive-thru at a McDonald’s and scan the menu.

 _“Hi there, welcome to McDonald’s, what can I get for you?”_ the crackly voice asks.

“Uh, medium Big Mac Meal with Fanta, please?”

_“Yup, anything else?”_

“BBQ sauce.”

_“Anything else?”_

“Nah, that’s good thanks.”

_“Okay, if you would just like to proceed to the next window.”_

“Thanks, love.”

You drive to the second window and pay, before heading to the third and final window to collect your food. You put the paper bag onto the seat next to you and the cup in the central-column cup holder. You put the car into gear as you stuff some fries into your mouth. Driving around the car park, you locate a parking space and park up. Stuffing some more fries into your mouth at once, you rip off the lid of the BBQ sauce, sticking it to the inside of the plastic bag, before taking it out again to lick it clean.

As you take the first bite of your Big Mac, your phone rings, loudly.

You carefully replace the burger in the box, close the lid and wipe your greasy fingers on the napkin.

“Hey Ma, what’s up?”

_“So it turns out that they do remember you, they were just fucking about.”_

“But why would they do that? Why, _why_ would Patty pretend that she doesn’t know me?”

_“She’s drunk.”_

“Figures. And Erin and Abby?”

_“Yeah, they’re also drunk. The only sober one is Kevin.”_

“Who the fuck is looking after Jane?”

_“We are.”_

“And nobody fucking told me?”

_“No… I don’t think anyone thought about it?”_

“But I could have _died_. Is that why they were drinking? Like, _celebrating_ my death?”

_“Oh, God, no, honey. They’re drunk because… actually, I never asked. They just said that they ordered a pitcher and have had too many pints.”_

“Where are they?”

_“Still in New York. Where are you?”_

“McDonald’s. 600 West 125th Street.”

_“Why are you all the way out there?”_

“I autopiloted to find food. Found McDonald’s with a drive-thru.”

_“Call your wife.”_

You sniff, lick your lips, connect the phone to Bluetooth (again, it didn’t properly work the first time) and take another bite of burger. “Ngho. She cabn cowl nghe.”

_“What have I told you about talking with your mouth full?”_

“Buhnt?”

_“Exactly.”_

You finish your mouthful and swallow, repeating what you said. “No. She can call me.”

“ _Call her now, dammit. She probably thinks you’ve killed yourself.”_

“I tried ringing her, she didn’t answer her _fucking_ _phone_.”

_“Jillian, I swear to God…”_

“Alright, alright! Sheesh! Fiiine. I’ll call the drunk mess.”

 _“Hmmph.”_ Your Mom hangs up again.

“Okay Google.”

_Bdong…_

_“_ Call Wifey.”

_“Calling ‘Wifey’…”_

The phone-line begins connecting and you wait for her to pick up.

_“Waaaaazhappeneeeeeen?”_

“Wut? You have an IQ of 152 and you’re talking like a 16 year old boy, Erin Holtzbert. Dafuk is wrong with you?”

_“Holtzbert? I’m Gilbert… Who’s…?”_

“I’m your _wife_.”

_“Wait, I got mar-*hic*-ied?”_

“Yeeeess…”

Erin hiccups again, and you furrow your brow and narrow your eyes, not that she can see you doing so.

“How drunk are you?”

 _“Ver-ry.”_ She says through yet another hiccup.

“Erin Jane Holtzbert, where in God’s name are you?”

_“Boooost—uuhhh…”_

_“(In a pub called ‘Tavern On the Green’.)”_

“Thanks, Kevin. Hey buddy?”

_“(Yes boss?)”_

“Get the girls some water, would ya? Especially my other half.”

_“(Right you are boss.)”_

“And Kevin?”

_“(Yes boss?)”_

“Take the phone when you’re back, I can barely here you.”

_“Okay boss.”_

“Jesus… Wasn’t expecting you to be _that_ loud.”

 _“Sorry boss.”_ He says, a bit quieter.

“Also, Kevin, buddy. You remember me don’tcha?”

_“Yes, boss. Dr Jillian Holtzmann. Senior Proton Wrangler. The others are sloshed, so they’re memories aren’t serving them well, but I know Patty was joking around when she said she didn’t know who you were. I told her that wasn’t very nice and that you were probably feeling very hurt. I did try to stop them drinking, but Erin swatted me away, quite a few times, actually, and so I gave up. I’m sorry, boss, I should have tried harder. Anyway, how’d it go at the lab?”_

“You’re oddly profound, aren’t you?”

_“What does that mean, boss?”_

“Ah, nope. _There’s_ the Kevin I remember, welcome back.”

_“I didn’t go anywhere, boss, that was you.”_

“I know buddy, I know. Lab is fine. Black Slime has been dispatched, Ghost Containment Unit has been fixed, I’m currently eating in McDonald’s. Can you drive?”

_“No, boss.”_

“Damn. Right, well, I’ll come pick you all up, take you to your respective homes and collect the Ecto a bit later.”

_“Boss?”_

“Yes, buddy.”

“ _How’re you gonna get back to get the car?”_

“Uh, public transport, my friend, or I can walk, it’s only an hour and a half away from the Firehouse and probably even less time to my apartment.”

_“Quentin can drop it off.”_

“And how is Quentin gonna get home?”

“He can crash with me. I have a Bachelor Pad.”

“Of course you do.”

 _“I really do. And Dani stays there_.”

“Ah, okay. Well, whatever’s easiest. One minute…”

_“I’ll get them water.”_

“Thanks, dude.”

_“You’re welcome, boss.”_

You type in the postcode for the Tavern, finish your food and drive out of the carpark and onto the main road.

* * *

As you pull up outside the pub, behind a long line of motorcycles, from Choppers to Harleys, to Suzuki’s, Yamahas and Hondas, you discard the McDonald’s rubbish into a plastic bag, but keep the cup up front, just in case anyone has to pee; although you actually don’t want that to happen. You sigh, realise you stink of body-odour and McDonald’s and probably also oil, and pull a face at your own stench. You search for some spray deodorant in Erin’s car, but can’t find any. You moan to yourself, but leave the car anyway.

Entering the pub you’re hit by the equally strong smell of unwashed bodies – from a group of bikers and the smell of beer and cider, mixed in with crisps and peanuts wafts into your nostrils. You wrinkle it up and try to find the girls. You describe Kevin to the barmaid and she points through a door marked ‘Restaurant’. “Through there, my love. Can I get you anything?”

“No, I’m good thanks. I’m looking for my friends.”

“They’ve been in there for 3 hours, love.”

“I’m taking them home now.”

“Aw, that’s a shame, they’ve spent good money.”

“Hmm. That’s normally me!” you quip. “I’ll take the drunkards off your hands.”

“Alright, but come back, won’t ya?”

“Pro’ly.”

You wander past a group of teenagers playing pool and the one lad actually grabs your ass. You stop and whirl around.

“Really? You’re gonna grope a lady’s ass?”

“It’s what you birds like, innit?”

“And who told you that? Hollywood? TV? These assholes?”

“Wooooah. I was only messin’, innit?”

“Okay, first of all, you don’t ‘mess around’ by grabbing a woman’s ass, _without_ permission, second of all, no self-respecting gentleman, or in your case, _boy_ , says ‘innit’ and third of all, I’m married to my beautiful wife. So, you wanna try that again?”

“You’re too pretty to be gay.”

“Uh, thanks? Keep up the lechery, I dare ya…” you hiss.

“Whatchu gonna do about it, darlin’?” he asks, snidely, leaning in for a kiss as his friends laugh.

“You’ve got three choices. 1) I snap this pool cue in half and ram it up your ass, 2) I break your fingers, or your wrist, 3) you apologise, you get back to playing pool and I go and collect my friends and my wife and leave you all in peace.”

“Mate, just leave it.” His friend says.

“You can’t break my wrist, you’re a girl.”

“Ah, so _that’s_ how you think you’re gonna get a girlfriend? Insult them, harass them and grope them?”

“Mate, don’t push it…”

“If you think you’re so tough yeah, then go on, break my wrist, I dare ya!”

“Oh, okay… Hey, bartender, sorry, love, don’t know your name, if I break this guy’s wrist for harassment, can I walk scot-free with no barring?”

“It’s Denise. Not gonna lie, love, someone needs to teach him a lesson. I’ve been telling him for weeks. He’s only here cos his brother works for me.”

“Ah, okay.” You glare at the guy. “Ask me one more time.”

“Break my wrist, I dare ya.”

“Okay.” You grab his right wrist and bend it downwards, sharply. He looks at you gleefully. You sniff. You move your thumb so it’s resting atop his and you push it downwards towards his wrist. You keep pushing, ignoring his face twisting in pain. As you push, you’re stretching out his ligaments. You push harder, not breaking eye contact until you heard a loud _snap._ He cries out in pain. You push once more for maximum effect and then let go. His hand is now perpendicular to its starting point and he can’t move it. “And just like that, you’re wrist is broken. Don’t you _ever_ touch a woman like that again and don’t you _ever_ speak to a woman like that again. Because changes are, mate, you’re gonna have your head kicked in one of these days, and I shall wager that it’s with a pair of stiletto heels.” You lean in close to his face. “Now, fuck off!” The four lads drop the pool cues and run out of the pub, with him screaming and crying in agony. She shrug at Denise and disappear next door.

“Hey guys.”

“Wassssuuupppp!” Erin and Abby call together.

“IQ 152, IQ 148, why are you speaking like twats?” You say, pointing first to Erin and then Abby.

“What does that mean, boss?”

“Kevin, buddy, you don’t have to say ‘boss’ _every_ time you address me, ‘Holtz’ is fine.”

“Okay, what are those numbers, Holtz?”

“Their IQ. How intelligent they are… Well, not an accurate portrayal of one’s intelligence, per se, but it kind of helps to differentiate intelligence levels.”

You opt not to mention how upset Patty made you feel and instead instruct them to finish their waters so you can all go home.

“ _Uh, Holtz_?” Kevin asks, quietly.

“Uh-huh.”

_“Do you, uh, do you need deodorant?”_

“Oh, God, yes. Do you have some?”

He produces a travel-sized Sure Men’s deodorant from his jeans pocket and hands it to you.

“In a completely normal boss-employee status, I love you, man.”

“Why didn’t you just say platonic?”

“Ha! Okay, didn’t know you knew that one.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Okay, good. Platonic love, man.”

“Back atcha!”

You spray your armpits, and then your clothing to try and hide the smell, before handing the mini can back to Kevin.

“Right, ladies. Let’s get in formation. Go for a wee and then we are leaving!”

Kevin disappears off to the men’s and you’re left with a horrendously drunk Erin, who literally needs to be carried to the toilet. You piggyback her into a cubicle and help her get her overalls down. (It’s early evening and you’re all still in your busting gear; except Kevin who’s in cuffed jeans, black loafers, white shirt, purple tie and navy waistcoat, sans fedora.)

* * *

You piggyback Erin out of the door and bid farewell to Denise.

“See ya later, my lovelies.”

“See you, Denise. If you get any trouble like those lads, bend their thumb sharply into the wrist, and keep applying pressure until it cracks. Saves on the police.”

“True, but might get told off for GBH.”

“Not if they ask for it!”

“Touché.”

Getting Erin into the car is a momentous task; she isn’t co-operating at all. “Erin, Erin, you are killing me here, get.in.the.car!”

“I don’t wanna.”

“Fine, you can walk home. Abby, Patty, Kevin?”

You turn to find Abby and Patty passed out on both of Kevin’s shoulders, in the backseat.

You get in the driver’s seat and spin the car around. You stay on the wrong side of the road and as Erin goes to grab the door handle, you accelerate a little. She goes to grab it again and you accelerate again.

“Hoooltssssss.” She says, before tutting.

You giggle, and wait for her to get in and belt up, before driving off towards Abby’s flat.

As you drive along in silence, Erin looks over at you and stares intensely at you; mirroring your behaviour.

“You came back.”

“I wasn’t gonna abandon you. Any of you. Especially you, believe it or not, I actually give a shit about my colleagues, my little Ghostbusting family, and _our_ family, Er-bear.”

“Hey, I remember that name! I feel like it’s been a while since I last heard it.”

“It has, and I’m sorry for that.”

“Why?”

“Cos it’s your favourite pet name. You told me so.”

“Oh, did I? I can’t remember. Oh, beep, beep, motherfucker.” She says as a car pulls out in front of you and you have to break heavily.

“Jesus, tryna run me off the road!”

“Not my Holtzy.”

“Shit, you remember?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“I rang Patty earlier, babe, and she said she didn’t know any ‘Holtzmanns’ and even when I gave her descriptors, she said she had no recollection of who I was and I thought I’d somehow wiped out my entire existence.”

“Patty is smashed; she’s drunk more than me and Abby _combined_.”

“Oh, shit, that much, huh?”

Erin nods and looks out of the window, focusing on the skyline.

“Hey Eri?”

“Yah?”

“Try and sleep some of the booze off. You smell like a brewery, hun.”

“I know, I’m sorry.”

“Attagirl.”

She closes her eyes and soon after, gentle snoring emanates from her lips.

* * *

Pulling up outside Abby’s apartment, you tap her knee to wake her up. “Hey Abs, home sweet home!” you say, a little too loudly.

“Fu’ you, bitch.” She slurs.

“Go on, get outta here. Get some sleep, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Fiiine.” She falls out of the car and Kevin gets out to assist her off the floor and into her apartment.

He gets back into the car and shuts the door loudly, waking up Patty. “Hey, where’d Abby go?”

“Home, Patty. Your place or your Uncle’s?”

“Mine… you know that’s my Mom’s, right?” Somehow she isn’t slurring.

“Ah, yes Mrs Tolan.” You sigh, remember her warm hugs and macaroni and cheese meals.

“Don’t hit on my Mom again.”

“Would I ever?”

“ _Yes._ ” Erin strains, waking up at that exact moment.

“I’m hurt that you would think that I would flirt with an 90 year old woman and not my 51 year old wife.” You ask, kissing the back of Erin’s hand and then stroking it with your thumb.

“Urgh, don’t remind me that I’m 51!”

“Baby girl, I’m 58!” Patty exclaims.

“Isn’t Abby around that age, too?” You ask.

“She’s 55.” Erin adds.

“And I’m 40.” You sigh.

“Ladies, why’re you comparing ages?”

“Because we can, Kevin. How old are you again?”

“I’m 34, Holtz.” He replies in his Aussie accent. “Dani is now 25 and Quentin is now 45.”

“Wut? God, you are here are babies.” You reply.

“Oh! I’d _love_ to be 25 again!” Erin says, sobered at the thought.

“Wait, Holtz, there 11 years’ difference between you and Erin?”

“Yes, that is a problem becaaause…?”

“No, no problem, just I thought you were only a couple of years apart!”

“Sorry, no, buddy. Erin’s a cougar.” You growl playfully. “Rawr.” Suddenly your expression changes to slight disgust.

“What, what is it?”

“Erin? _How_ is our little princess nearly 7?”

“Oh. When did that happen, when did she stop being threeeee?”

“Uh, four years ago, boss.”

“Kevin.” You say flatly. You shake your head and pull a face. “Urgh, she’ll be graduating from 1st to 2nd grade.”

“Yeah, they do that. Don’t they have an end-of-year field trip?”

“Oh, God, Erin, the consent form!”

“Filled and submitted.”

“Oh, God, I love you. What would I do without you?”

“Probably die.” She replies cynically.

“Oh. Thanks.” You reply in a monotone.

“Welcome.” She sings, before kissing you and rubbing your thigh.

You sigh loudly and drive Patty to her Mom’s, in relative silence. You hum now and again, and then whistle to yourself.

“Argh, no, babe. Too high pitched!” Erin complains. “I have a headache.”

“Aw, are you hungover?” you ask, with mild concern and brow furrowed. You relax your face. “No sympathy.”

“Bitch.”

“I’m your bitch.”

“Yeah, that’s true.” Erin replies, turning on the radio and she tunes it into 105.9 – WQXR-FM.

“Are we _really_ listen to fuckin’ Beethoven?” Patty asks, groaning loudly.

“It’s Tchaikovsky and this is the ‘Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy’ from The Nutcracker, the _most well-known_ piece of composure…” Erin announces, sounding offended.

“Sorry, dude. They all sound the same to me. Strings, pianos and woodwind instruments.”

“I’m gonna have to educate you then.” Erin quips.

You change the radio station to 100.3 – Z100.

“Uh, no, what are you doing?”

“I _can’t_ listen to classical music, Eri.”

“My car, _my_ radio…”

“Driver’s choice.”

“That’s _not_ how it works. Patty, Kevin?”

“Kevin, don’t you dare say you like–”

“No, I’m with Holtz. This radio station is my fave.”

“OhmyGod, I _love_ this song… ‘Nothing can stop me, I’m all the way up! All the way up! I’m all the way up! I’m all the way up! Nothing can stop me, I’m all the way up!” Patty sings. “Shorty whatchu want, I got whatchu need…”

Even Kevin starts bopping his head along.

“The majority has spoken, Er-bear.”

She huffs, and you briefly take your eyes off the road to kiss her cheek.

“HOLTZ! EYES ON THE ROAD!” She shrieks.

“Sorry, babe.”

Before too long, you’ve arrived outside Mrs Tolan’s house and, as if by magic, she appears from the house and shuffles, with pace, down the garden path. She is still as sprightly as ever and as of yet, she doesn’t require a walking stick or a Zimmer frame.

Patty exits the vehicle even before you’ve properly brought the Camaro to a halt.

“Hey Ma.”

“Patty, baby girl. I’ve not seen you in months, girl, where have you been?”

“At my Uncle’s. Sorry, Ma.”

“But you didn’t think to call?”

“I swear I did?” Patty queries.

“Not that I recall, Patty. Anyway, you’re here now. You with my favourite lesbians?”

“Yes, and they’re the _only_ lesbians you know, Ma.”

In the car, Erin turns to look at you. She takes a moment to think of what she is needing to say, and licks her lips in the process. “So, obviously the GCU is fixed then, as you’re not dead, so how did that go?”

“I can’t lie and tell you it was easy; it was stressful, but I have fixed it. Also, the Black Slime sample we got from the Transit Museum has gone… along with Abby’s desk.”

“What do you mean ‘along with Abby’s desk’?”

“Well, it is caustic, so it ate the table.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really. But I got rid of it.”

“How, I thought it’s weakness was Protons?”

“No, it’s weakness is Green Slime. It needed to be neutralised with a high concentration of positive ions, and the only thing I had available was the, er…” you lapse into silence.

“Was the what, Holtz?”

“Are they coming out to say hello?”

“Ma, let them talk. It’s been a while since they’ve seen each other.. long story.” Patty adds, to her mother’s raised eyebrow. “C’mon, let’s get the kettle on, leave the door open, they’ll be in when they’re ready, okay?”

“Alright. Do you want anything to eat?”

“Toast will be fine. I have a bit of a hangover.”

“Oh dear. Thought you weren’t a party animal anymore?”

“I’m not, just had one too many at the pub last night. Abby is at home, Kevin is… Where is Kevin?”

“Oh the nice young man who doesn’t have lenses in his glasses?”

“Yup, that’s him.”

“With your father at the BBQ.”

“Ah, alright. Leave the men to it.” She chuckles.

“C’mon Holtz, just tell me. You’ve been avoiding it for the last two minutes.”

“With good reason.”

“It’s bad isn’t it?”

“Define ‘bad’…”

“You didn’t destroy the lab again, did you?”

“Just Abby’s desk and the windows…”

“Christ! And what else?”

“Had the S.W.A.T team around…”

“Oh, my God, must’ve been bad then.”

“They thought it was a bomb…”

“A bomb?! And what was it?”

“The Prototype Air Filter Proton Grenade, stripped down and filled with Green Slime. Ate it right up… After it went ‘kaboom’ of course.”

“The Prototype Grenade? Aw, Holtz, you loved that thing! You kept it for years!”

“Nine years.”

“Awww, nearly a decade of the same piece of equipment. Babe, I’m actually really sad for you. But, how did you not turn to ash from the inside out?”

“Because I made it safe and was out of the lab.”

“Shit, does that mean everything has been destroyed?! Our life’s work gone in an instant? Holtzmann!” Erin reverts back to your previous name – she rarely shouts now, but calls you ‘Holtzmann’ or ‘Jillian’ when you’re in trouble.

“Actually, no. I removed _everything_ of value out of the lab, including myself before it exploded. I actually engaged my brain for once!” You reply, followed by your uncomfortable gay laughter.

“Thank you. I would’ve actually strangled you if you had destroyed everything.”

You gulp audibly. “ _Actually_ , or ‘laced-with-sarcasm-but-pretend-threats’ actually?”

“What do _you_ think?”

“Uh, at this point? I-I-I, er, uh, I…” you stop mouth open, panicking.

“I’m being sarcastic. I would never, _ever_ intentionally harm you, let alone kill you, you goof!”

You sigh. “Thank you.”

“Let’s go say to the Tolans.”

“Yah, let’s.”

* * *

After a brief visit, but what seems like an age due to the endless macaroni and cheese, cups of tea and biscuits, you finally depart with Kevin in tow. Erin takes your hand, for the first time in months, and laces your fingers together. You sigh lustily.

“That’s something we’ve not done in a while.”

“I know. And I’m sorry, Holtz.”

“Life got in the way, didn’t it?”

“Weeeell…”

“I mean, with all the busts we’ve had, we haven’t had a lot of _us_ time. Well, not properly since our honeymoon. We couldn’t even…” you stop, cringing at the memory of Jane walking in on you and you not wanting to relay this information to Kevin.

“But that was three years ago.”

“And we’ve been careful ever since.”

“Well, that’s true.”

“Hey guys.” The familiar Aussie accent cheerily calls.

“Yes, Kevin?” You ask, not looking at him.

“Dani just text me. She wants to thank you because her and Sophie are now officially dating.”

“Sweet baby Jesus! They took their time!” You say, turning to face Kevin and walking backwards.

“Not everything is a race, honey.” Erin adds, kissing your cheek.

As you approach the car, you hand Erin her keys. She squints at them, pulls a face and hands them back to you. “I’m very much still under the influence. I can’t drive.”

“Alright, fine, but I’m the DJ.”

“As always.” She kisses your cheek again and gets in the front passenger’s seat. Kevin jumps in the back and you get in the driver’s side.

Flicking through the radio channels, you give up and lean across Erin to open the glove box. You find a bunch of CDs and pull them all out. “Heeey, this is my 80s CD!”

“What’s yours is mine.”

“Okay, true, but I’ve been looking for it.”

“Have you?”

“I was, and then I gave up. Figured it was lost for good.”

“Nope, just in my car.”

You put the CD into the drive and listen to the first song for a little bit, before driving Kevin, who gives you directions at every street and junction, to his apartment. He texts Quentin to go and pick up the Ectomobile and waits for you approval before hitting ‘send’.

“I’m a bit iffy about it, to be honest, Kev. He’s not got insurance. Only Erin and Abby have… Well, Abby has had insurance since Ecto-1 and Erin’s had insurance since Ecto-1A. And now they _both_ have it for Ecto-1B; insured at the same time.”

“I can tell him to be careful.”

“It’s not just that.” You say, pursing your lips together and sort of smiling at the same time. “If he gets caught by the police, we’ll all be in trouble; me in particular as I’m the main driver, and I bought her. It’s fine, I’ll get a taxi and pick it up. It’s all good. Thanks, Kev.”

“No worries, Holtz.” He cancels the text message and continues giving you directions.

You pull up outside his apartment block, shortly after, and he clambers out. He high-fives Erin and fist-bumps you before disappearing inside the building.

“And then there were two.” Erin remarks.

You sigh, dejectedly. And realise you’re hours behind your medication schedule; clearly the adrenaline of fixing the GCU, getting rid of the Black Slime, breaking that lad’s wrist and carting drunk colleagues in the early evening has kept you going. You switch off the engine and root around for your pills. You can’t find them and you pull a face. You check the door pocket on your side, your pockets, you get out and open the backdoors and check the pocket in the passenger seat and door. You check the other side. You open the boot and search in there. Finally you come to Erin’s side, open her door, search the pocket and the glove box and frown hard. You slam all the doors shut and get back in, still frowning. You growl, lip upturned into a snarl.

“What’s happening, wolf-girl?” Erin asks, pointing at your curled lip.

“Can’t find my meds.” You say with a lower-than-usual voice and through gritted teeth.

“Where did you last see them?”

“In the fuuuckiiing laaab.” You breathe, before sighing, switching the engine on and swinging the car around. You shake your head and have the sudden urge to punish yourself by slamming the heel of your hand into your temple. Erin sees your grip tightening on the steering wheel, and also registers that you’re not wearing your driving gloves – or any gloves for that matter.

She strokes your thigh soothingly, but it does nothing to calm you down. She continues doing so as you drive off, anger at your stupidity, coursing through your veins.

_Forty minutes later_

You slam the breaks on and you lurch forwards in your seat. You shrug, half-apologetically at Erin and leave the Z28 Camaro to locate your medication inside the laboratory. You find them, exactly where you left them, on Kevin’s desk. You take your Adderall, followed by the antidepressant (the exact same order since you first started on them) and inhale deeply. Holding your breath, you count to ‘6 Mississippi’s’ before exhaling gradually. You do this another two times before opening your eyes to find Erin standing in front of you.

“You’re stressed. What’s got you worked up?”

“I haven’t had time to see if Black Slime creates a Black Slime Portal or to understand why Slimer is back… I genuinely don’t understand, my love, but I don’t know _when_ I will have time, versus _when_ the next apocalypse will take place.”

“You’ll figure it out, you always do, and we can help. We can all look into the properties of Bla—”

“That’s been done, I found Abby’s notes, and my drunken-stupor written notes; they made little sense. Apparently, I tried to drink the Black Slime…”

Erin furrows her brow and winds in her neck. “Even drunk Holtz would know _for sure_ not to drink the stuff. How far gone were you?”

“I don’t remember. It was like three or four yea—Oh, my God… I found the Black Slime when we encountered Eleanor Twitty, _three_ years ago. I’ve been sat on this for _three fucking years_ , Erin! I’ve done fuck all about it, for _three_ years… give or take… and then we encounter Slimer in the Transit Museum. Meaning, that whatever is happening in that astral plane has lain dormant for three years… Meaning, it could lay dormant for _another_ three years, or could rip a hole in the fabric of this world tomorrow… If I’m honest, Erin, I’m frightened to find out. I wasn’t gonna admit that, because, well, you know how tough I like to act, but I’m frightened.”

“The thought has crossed my mind, I’ll admit, but there’s got to be something we can do to stop it happening.”

“Well, I don’t know… I mean, when I fixed the GCU, the ghosts inside it got released… but I’m not sure if they went to Lansing, or if I accidentally sent them back out into NYC.”

“We’ve not had any reports of any sightings…”

“Not that we’re aware of. None of us have actually been in the lab since this morning.”

“Well, that’s true.”

“So, in theory, there could be a _lot_ of calls, which _none_ of us know about. I’d better check the call-log.”

“And I’ll check the website.”

You split off with you going to Kevin’s desk and Erin going to the lab.

“OH MY GIDDY AUNT!”

“WHAT? WHAT IS IT?” You cry up the stairs.

“THE LAB, HOLTZ. YOU WEREN’T KIDDING ABOUT ABBY’S DESK NOT BEING THERE!”

“I KNOW, I’M SORRY. I DIDN’T KNOW WHAT ELSE TO D—SHIT, I NEED TO GET THE ECTO! OUR STUFF’S IN THERE AND ANYONE CAN NICK IT!”

“SHIT, I’LL COME WITH YOU.”

“NO, ERI, CHECK THE LOGS, SEE WHAT WE NEED TO DEAL WITH AS A MATTER OF URGENCY. I’LL BE BACK IN APPROXIMATELY 30 MINUTES; IT’S ONLY WEST 67TH STREET!”


	56. Chapter 54

_Almost two hours later_

You return in the Ecto and park her in the garage, before moving Erin’s car into the other alleyway. As you lock the car, you notice her handbag and unlock it again, taking it out and slinging it over your shoulder. You check for any more valuables and then lock it again. You opt to leave the Packs in the back of the Ecto, should they be needed fairly soon and enter the Firehouse with the bag still on your shoulder.

“Suits you.” Erin says, looking up from the laptop on Kevin’s desk. You roll your eyes and dump it on the sofa.

“What’s the total number of ghost sightings?”

“Zero.”

“Wait, wut?”

Erin spins the laptop screen to show you that there have been no new ghost sightings since your last bust.

“How strange…” you begin. “Hmm, maybe I did send them all to Lansing.”

“Let’s have sex.” Erin says, changing the subject.

“Wut?”

“You + me = sex.”

You open your mouth and furrow your brow, before cocking your head to the left. “Sooo, you _don’t_ care that I have sent the ghosts to Michigan?”

“Out of our jurisdiction. We finally have some alone time, where we’re not gonna be interrupted. And don’t forget those bedrooms upstairs, which I’m not sure any of us have actually use in the three years we’ve been here.”

“That’s true! We’re in a Firehouse, with bedrooms, where the Fire brigade would have stayed for emergencies and none of them have been Christened… which is odd, considering we’ve had sex in this lab before and destroyed most of my lab.”

“Yeah, but there’s one bedroom and shower upstairs in your area and three in our area.”

“Oh, so _that’s_ what’s behind those locked doors?”

“Yes, now come on, I’m gagging for it.”

You widen your eyes. “Yes ma’am!” You say, slight shock at her tone and choice of words. She takes you by the hand and you’re both practically running up the stairs to your lab on the third floor.

She wrenches open the door and slams you hard into the concrete wall, winding you. “ _Ungh.”_ You reply.

“Sorry, was that too hard?”

“Yeah…” you gasp. “ _Ungh._ I think you’re still drunk.”

“Quite possibly. Sorry. Should we wait until I’m sober?”

“Oh, God no. Just be gent—oh, to Hell with it, be rough. I need good, hard sex… I need you to fuck the stress out of me, Erin.”

“ _That_ I probably can do.”

She kisses you forcefully and pulls at the zipper of your jumpsuit, she catches it on the material and spends ages trying to free it. You slap her hand away and carefully remove the material from the zipper, before pulling it down. You unlace your boots, Erin takes the hint and sits down on the loveseat to underdo hers. By the time hers are off, you’re standing in your sports bra, boxers and your polka dot ankle sock and striped ankle sock. You click your tongue and cock your head to one side. “Need a hand there?”

“Yes, please, I’m stuck.”

You snort and go over to help her. She keeps moving and so now you’re finding it difficult to get her out of her jumpsuit. “Erin, Erin. Stop, stop… Erin, sit still!” She obeys and you eventually get her out of the jumpsuit, before wrinkling your nose. “My God, you smell just as bad as I do, Erin.” You grumble gutturally and whine.

“What?”

“We’ve all been in our jumpsuits all day and I don’t even know the last time we all took them home to wash them. You, my love, _stink_ …”

“Of what?”

“Of the day – B.O., grime… Like, it’s not pleasant.”

“Oh.”

“Can we shower? I mean, like I don’t mind the smell of when you’ve just woken up, or you’ve done nothing all day and you smell of the sofa, or you smell of bacon sandwiches, or you have your natural skin smell, but the smell of sweat, it’s like… Urgh… I can’t… I’m feeling sick just thinking about it.”

“No worse than your feet!”

“Hey, they’re never _that_ bad… and they only smell if we’ve been running around on multiple busts all day. The combat boots aren’t very breathable. But, _please_ , can we shower?”

“Yes, yes, God.” Erin strips down bare and wanders over to the shower. You go to slap her ass, but miss as she takes a big stride.

You pout and grab two towels before stripping off yourself.

The shower stream sobers Erin up and she pouts at you. “Hey, I’m sorry for being a drunken mess.”

“It’s fine, Patty hurt me the most.”

“But Patty loves you. She’s saved your life multiple times. Just think back to when we were first working together – you told me she stopped you falling out of the window and during the battle of Times Square, she chipped that ghost and stopped you getting hit with a spectral axe.”

“I know she did, and I know you have all saved my life, you in particular, but she told me she didn’t remember who I was, and that was a kick in the gut, in all honesty. Don’t tell her this, but she made me cry.”

“Oh, honey, I didn’t know that. I’m sorry, c’mere.” She hugs you and kisses the top of your head, before spinning you around and giving your shoulders a massage. “Oof, you’ve got a knot, right here.”

“I, ow, I, _owww_ , I _know_.”

“Sorry, I need to get it out…” she digs the heel of her hand into your shoulder and rubs it out – hard. You grumble in pain and start blowing air through your nose, in quick succession. She kisses the shoulder, which is now knot-free and red. As she kisses, you push your butt into her pelvis and pin her against the back wall of the cubicle. She gets the hint and pushes her knee between your legs, spreading them. She bites your shoulder and starts to leave a lovebite.

You suck in air through your teeth, bite your lower lip and moan. She bites down hard again, and continues attacking the skin, until tiny blood spots appear on the surface and it begins to bruise. She places a soft kiss on it before nibbling your earlobe.

“Not now, not here, I need the bed.”

“Oh, okay. Weird, but okay.”

“Just, just trust me… Right now, I need to be lying down. Shower doesn’t have much appeal today, I’m afraid.”

Erin sighs and washes herself, before getting out and letting you do the same. When you’re ready, with the towel wrapped around you, you leave the shower room to find Erin has disappeared. You step out near the centre of the lab and look for her – she can’t have gone far, but you’re still confused.

“Erin?” you call.

“In here, stupid.” She calls, teasingly, from your bedroom (it’s supposed to be yours, as it’s attached to your lab.)

“Oh, you’re in _there_.” You wander in. It’s plain magnolia walls, with a twin bed, a small chest of drawers and a mirror stuck on the wall. “Urgh, this is so boring. Man, I need posters in here.”

“You don’t even stay here.”

“I _miiight._ ”

“When? When are you _ever_ gonna stay here? You haven’t in the three years we’ve been based here.”

“Late night experiments and the like. They happen.”

“Mind you, I have found you crashed on the sofa a fair few times.”

“You _haaave?_ ”

“Yes, just last month.”

“You _diiiid?_ ” you question, stretching out the vowels. “I just remember being in the lab, unsure of how I got there.”

“You didn’t go home; you must’ve crashed from exhaustion.”

“I don’t crash from exhaustion.” You reply, yawning widely. “Oh.”

“You sure you want sex babe, you’re day-yawning.”

“Because we’re talking about tiredness. Kiss me again and see what happens.” You say, but before you give her the chance to, your lips are on hers and your tongue is in her mouth.

It’s been a while since you last kissed her like that, and she is surprised, insofar as pulling away from you.

“What, what did I do?” you ask, frowning.

“No, nothing, I… forgot that was a _thing_ … It’s been a while. I was alarmed, because we normally just close-mouth kiss. Nothing bad, I just forgot that tongues can be involved.” She chuckles nervously.

“Oh, well in that case.” You peck her on the cheek, before kissing her on the lips, without your tongue.

“No, not like that…”

“Erin…” you sigh “baby, I don’t know what you want.”

“Make out with me.”

“Okay.” You do so and find her rubbing your boobs and lightly pinching your nipples.

“ _Harder.”_ You breathe and she does so.

Still kissing you, her hands wander all over your body, making your skin tingle and get covered in goosebumps. She trails her fingers down the outside of your legs, and then draws them up your inner thigh. She repeats the action, getting higher and higher each time, until on the fifth stroke, she reaches, and settles on, your vagina.

“Lick me.” She licks your face. “No, Erin, lick my pussy.”

“Can you not say ‘vagina’, for once?”

“I _could_ , but I don’t wanna. Please, let’s not focus on the semantics, but you just fucking me hard.”

She rolls her eyes at you.

“Urgh, okay… Darling, would you please make sweet, sweet love to me, with a continuous strong pressure, and perform oral sex, or _cunnilingus_ on me now, please?” You say in a fake British accent, sweetening the deal.

“There, that wasn’t so hard was it? Sometimes, being polite is the way forward. Of course, my love, I shall give you oral sex and make love to you on this very small twin bed.”

“I’m turning my phone off. I want _zero_ interruptions.” You say, leaving the room to grab your phone from your jumpsuit pocket. You switch if off. “Hey, babe, want yours off?” you call.

“Yeah, that’s a good idea. No interruptions, or distractions. Just you, me, this bed and wild sex.”

“Right you are.” You turn hers off as well and return to the bedroom, where she throws you onto the bed and spreads your legs.

Kneeling at the foot of it, she grabs your knees and pulls you down a little, so there’s no stretching involved. She lowers her head and gently licks away at you. She’s teasing you, as per usual, but you’re not in the mood to be teased. You just wanted brainless sex, that completely removes all stress from the day. You lie there for a few more minutes, trying to enjoy the soft licking, but you lie back into the bed and sigh loudly. Erin ignores you, so you sigh even louder. She stops.

“What?” she enquires, exasperatedly.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t be dealing with the teasing, not today, I know you love to tease me, to make me beg for it, but I just want sex – I don’t want the teasing, I don’t even want the foreplay, get me wet and then just nail me. I’m too stressed and I need you to de-stress me. The soft licking, whilst normally pleasurable, is doing nothing for me today, and it’s just giving me more time to think – I’m starting to worry about a Black Slime Portal and why Slimer was back and how I’ve sat on this information for three years and done nothing about it and how I probably should have, and the fact that I could have died, and you guys acted like I didn’t even exist, and the fact that I broke a teenager’s wrist and I left a goodbye message for you, just in case I didn’t make it, and... and…” You’re suddenly feeling rather overwhelmed and the water works begin, much to your annoyance. You sit yourself up and cross your legs. Erin gets up from the hardwood floor (just as well as her knees are starting to hurt) and comes to sit next to you, with both feet on the floor.

“First of all, it took _us all_ three years to discover the properties of Black Slime and you did _numerous_ tests on it, so we didn’t _do nothing_ , or have you forgotten that part? Second of all, yes, we do need to discover how, and more importantly, _why_ , Slimer is back from the Ghostworld. Thirdly, you _broke a teenager’s wrist?_ Dare I ask? You didn’t die, we’re here for you, and if I was compos mentis, I would have told Patty not to do that to you. I think I need to have a word with her.”

“No, you’re right, we did take 21/2 years to ascertain the assets of Black Slime, but that _still_ doesn’t explain Slimer. Yeah, I broke a lad’s wrist, because he groped me and was being lecherous, but the bartender, Denise, said that I could to ‘teach him a lesson’. That was before I came to collect you four.”

“Oh, my God. What the hell?”

“What? I was told to. He spoke to me like trash!”

“Alright, fair enough. So, wipe your tears and lie there.”

You scoot up to the pillow and lean your head into it. Erin pushes your legs up, so you’re forced to bend your knees and keep your feet flat on the bed. She leans her head down again, and continues licking you, but with more passion and pressure. You gasp and moan with pleasure. You grab her hair and pull at it, mirroring your pleasure onto her. As you moan, she stops.

“Stay there, I have an idea.” Erin gets up and disappears into the laboratory, you’re unsure what she’s searching for, so you prop yourself up on your elbows and crane your neck to watch her. She returns moments later, with a clean piece of material, which you are unsure of what it actually is (a rag, a cloth; what?) which she places over her eyes and ties behind her head, once she’s at the foot of the bed. “I know how much blindfolding makes you uncomfortable, but I’m fine with it.” She clambers back onto the bed and strokes your body. She finds your clit and dips her head to lick at it; this arouses you even more because she can’t see what she is doing, but knows where everything is (the bonus of having slow, teasing sex in the dark; Erin knows your entire body.)

She continues to lick you, then, almost unexpectedly, pushes two fingers deep inside you. Your breath catches in your throat, and she’s furiously fingering you; trying to give it to you hard, like you asked for it. She continues to pleasure you orally, paying attention to every part of your sensitive area – the labia majora and minora and the clit with her tongue and the opening and your inside with her fingers. You gasp and moan and writhe on the sheets.

You call her name repeatedly and feel yourself getting close quite quickly. Just as she has squeezed your head during climax, in the past, you squeeze hers and she has to tap out; you relax them, but tug her hair, making her moan into your skin.

Unbeknownst to you, Abby and Patty have entered the Firehouse looking for work to do, they’ve been bored in their houses and that is why they only ever go home to sleep, or because they have to. The door is closed quietly, as Erin, still blindfolded, pleases you. She stops and pulls off the blindfold before disappearing again. She opens a draw in a cabinet, where she had hidden a second strap-on, with a much larger and thicker dildo attached and puts it on. She approaches you with all 8 inches, and relative thickness, and you gulp audibly.

“Uh, babe. How, er, how big is that?”

“8 inches. Average dick siz—4.5 inches larger than the one at home. I was getting a bit bored of it, I’m sorry, so I bought this one last week.”

“And you _didn’t_ tell me?”

“No, I was going to, but I never had the chance. So, er, surprise?”

“Is that, is-is-is that, err, going _inside_ of me?”

“Where else is it gonna go?”

“In you?”

“But I’m wearing it.” Erin protests. “You wanted hard sex, right?”

“Yes, but I—”

“Look, it’s alright. I can take it off, it’s not a problem.” She starts undoing the buckles, but you stop her, holding her hand in place.

“No, it’s just, I, er, uhh, be _gentle_.”

“How can I fuck you hard, if you want me to be gentle?”

“I dunno, push it in slowly? Let me get used to it…”

“Let me get the lube.” She gets off the bed again.

“Why, I’m drenched?”

“Because dry silicone will dry you out sharpish.” She replies, not looking at you. She goes back to the draw and grabs a small tube of strawberry lube. “And, besides, a strawberry-flavoured pussy will be great.”

“So, you’re saying that my naturally sweet taste is—”

“Going to taste even sweeter with the lube. Lie still and _try_ to relax.”

You feel your vaginal walls contracting and your body arches out of nervousness. She lubes up and straddles you. You gulp loudly again and breathe heavily.

“Babe, babe…” she begins, trying to reassure you.

You can’t hear her; you’ve switched off and you’re in panic mode.

“Babe, look I can take it off, it’s not a problem. Babe?” She kisses you and inserts her tongue. Yours is unmoving and it takes a while for you to register that it’s there. You break out of your trance and look at her; fear in your eyes. “Do you want me to try this? I’m not gonna do anal, or bite your ass or anything weird; is this weird? Is this too much?”

You shake your head with tiny movements, eyes wide. You close them and lie down, wriggling to get comfortable. You breathe in deeply and exhale deeply, concentrating on your breathing as Erin straddles you once more.

“ _Hnngh.”_ You mumble, as she pushes it in rather forcefully.

Erin stops and pulls out slowly.

You take the dildo in your hand and guide it towards the opening of your vagina, slowly inserting it, feeling it inside you, pushing it in a little way, and leaving it sitting there, so you can feel it against your insides. You slowly pull it out, until the tip and push it back in again. Inadvertently you’re doing the same moves as a heterosexual (or bisexual) virgin – you’re testing the waters, and the elasticity of your vagina – before inserting it once more and nodding in content.

Erin, who has just let you do this, and who is weirdly reminded of her hetero relationships, takes your nod as a good sign, and takes over, pulling the dildo out a little way, before pushing it back in again. Now and again, you get a sharp pain, an uncomfortable sensation, and it’s etched on to your face. Your body tenses up and Erin sees this, so she takes it out, applies more lube to the dildo and then rubs some on your vagina.

“Your pussy’s drying out.” She remarks, as crassly as you do. She inserts it again and within seconds she is pumping in and out faster. You start to relax, as it’s the same movement over and over, and then you tell her to take you harder. She obliges and soon she’s slamming into your G-Spot, sweat forming on her brow with the effort.

You moan loudly in ecstasy. Shortly afterwards, you’ve also broken a sweat, and combined you’re pouring with sweat – soaking the bedsheets. She pumps back and forth, back and forth, half leaning into you and then she leans in further still and makes out with you, only stopping for air. You use this opportunity to gracefully flip her, dildo still inside you, so that you’re on top. You bounce up and down a little, before rotating your hips and grinding into her. She gives you some pointers, and then grabs your hips, digging her nails into them. You moan loudly and bite your bottom lip.

You work together and then you’re on your back again, before Erin is pulling out and flipping you onto your knees. She does you doggy style, grabbing your hips and pulling you into her pelvis (instead of her pushing into you, she’s pulling you into her.)

Without thinking, you blurt out that you want anal and Erin stops, dumfounded.

“You want what now? _Anal?_ Jillian Holtzbert wants anal? I thought that you said…”

“I know what I said, but I want hard sex and that’s hard right? I mean, you’ve had it, so you would know.”

“I have, but you know that it’s gonna hurt right?”

“Let’s just try it and see.”

“Only if you’re sure?”

“Erin, I could have died today. So, harder, Daddy.”

“Alrighty then, only if you’re sure…” She applies lube to your butt, smothering lots of cold gel to the skin and lines up. She pushes it slowly, so that it opens you up; it feels weird for you, but you don’t let on.

“Surely, it’s gonna hurt more if you go slowly, as you’re stretching it. Just shove it in.”

“Honey, no, that’s the last thing you want; you could rupture your asshole.”

“Isn’t that the point?”

“No, not really.” She goes slowly again, but boredom is starting to take over, so you forcefully push yourself back into Erin and cry out in pain, grabbing the bedsheets, and dropping your chest on the mattress, so your ass is high in the air and the dildo is still inside you.

“ _Hnngh!_ Ow, no, no, no, no. Erin… get it out… Get it… For the love of God, GET THAT DILDO OUT OF MY ASS!” You yell, pain taking over your body.

Downstairs, Abby and Patty’s mouths drop and they’re now _fully_ aware of what you two are up to. A hand flies to Abby’s mouth and Patty looks shocked, biting her lower lip to stop her snorting.

“ _Take it Holtzy doesn’t like anal.”_ Patty suggests, stifling a laugh.

 _“That’ll be the first time…”_ Abby replies, going over to make coffee.

_“And how do you know?”_

“ _Remember we dated? And I know Holtz: ‘That is an exit not an entry’.” _Abby replies, boiling the kettle. _“Want some coffee?”_

“ _I might need something stronger, like whiskey.”_ She adds, chuckling, before saying that she would, in fact, like a coffee.

Back upstairs, Erin has pulled out and is kissing your asshole better; you’re wondering if she’s trying to eat ass again. “I told you that you’d regret it by just shoving it in there. You have to do these things slowly.”

“How is she? My ass? Have I broken it, is it bleeding?”

“Well stop moving and I’ll – No, you’re fine. Just a little wider than normal, but that’s to be expected. I’ll wash this and then we can carry on.”

“Yeah, if I ever ask for… _that_ … again, remind me of this time, drunk or sober, and tell me, firmly, _no._ ”

“Alright babe.” She vanishes into the bathroom.

You’re lying on your front, rubbing you ass better when she returns. “Okay, it’s all clean, do you want to continue with this.”

“Did you—?”

“ _Yes_ , I used soap and water. _Yes_ , I did wash it all off properly – ran it under the tap four times.”

“Okay, then.” You take a moment to adjust and before too long, the dildo is back inside your vagina and Erin is giving you a good seeing too.

For a while it’s too quiet, and Abby and Patty think that you’ve stopped and start walking up the stairs to Abby and Erin’s lab (Patty shares the space with you, but only your bedroom is up here, the other three are on the second floor.) No sooner had they sat down, the sounds of _crashing_ and _thumping_ can be heard overhead. You and Erin are now having wild sex and not only have you knocked a lamp to the floor, but the headboard of the bed, is banging into the wall.

Patty and Abby exchange looks, and pull uncomfortable and awkward faces. They both want to leave, but Abby starts getting aroused by the sounds you’re making above and Patty is now in ‘fright’ mode.

The moaning and whimpering starts then, from both parties, and the pair of them look to the ceiling in disgust and embarrassment.

“Yo, I don’t think they know we’re here.”

“Leave them to it, Patty.” Abby says, toying with her glasses.

“I am, but I hope they’re not at it for hours, we have work to do. She notices Abby’s flushed face. “Abby are you… _turned on_ … by Erin and Holtzy?”

This makes Abby blush even redder. “I am… a _little_ …” she lies, crossing her legs under the table; the fact of the matter is she’s extremely horny, because the sounds which you’re making with Erin, is reminding her of the sounds you made when making love to her all those years ago.

“Man, I’m going back to my Ma’s. Can’t sit here and listen to those two at it. It’s making me cringe. Call me when it’s safe. I’ll text Kevin not to show, either.” Patty says. Grabbing her denim jacket and throwing it over her shoulders, she shakes her head, texts Kevin and runs out the door, being careful not to slam it.

Abby listens to you and Erin having sex and wanders off to her bedroom. She knows she shouldn’t, but she can’t help herself. Upon entering the bedroom, she shuts the door, pushes the chair up to the door, from the corner, wedges it under the handle, and undoes the laces of her Converse. She slips them off, followed by her leggings and clambers onto the bed. Lying down, she wriggles to get comfortable. From here, she can hear everything much clearer, as your bedroom is directly above hers. She closes her eyes, and lets her hand creep into her underwear. Within seconds she is soaking wet and she moans quietly in the dark. Concentrating on your moans and Erin’s kisses (which are more audible than usual) she allows herself to be taken over by the pleasure.

She continues masturbating to the sounds of you having sex in the room above her, and as she reaches climax, you scream out Erin’s name, as you climax in the room above. For some reason, Abby’s heart sinks, but she tries to focus on making herself cum. She tries to listen, but it’s all gone quiet now that you’ve cum hard, and everywhere. She continues playing with her clit, and her breath hitches, before she holds it and cums quietly over her fingers. She gasps and leans back into the bed, as your bedroom door creaks open. As she regains her breath, you and Erin head into the lab. Abby dresses quickly, puts her shoes roughly back onto her feet, removes the chair and dashes into the bathroom to wash her hands, as you and Erin walk down the stairs, fingers laced together.

You enter the lab as Abby leaves the bathroom, and she immediately blushes. _When did you get here?_ You think. _Oh, shit, has she heard everything? Is that why she’s blushing?_ Panic-stricken you look at an oblivious Erin and squeeze her hand. She realises something is wrong and looks at you. Abby clears her throat and greets you.

“Hi, how are you both?”

“Uh, fine thanks, Abs. You?”

“Yeah, yeah, good.” She mutters, still a deep shade of scarlet.

Erin lets go of your hand and wanders over to her desk; Abby’s still hasn’t been replaced, so she’s sharing the long metal desk with Erin. As Abby walks over to the coffee maker in the kitchenette, you grab her arm and gently pull at it.

_“Why are you blushing so much, Abs? What’s happened?”_

_“I, er, I, well… I, ahem…”_

_“You didn’t… yano, hear anything, did you?”_

_“Like what?”_ She asks, pretending to be clueless.

 _“Oh, uhm, never min--_ ”

She sighs, and stares at you. “ _No, I heard everything. Patty left 10 minutes ago. We came back, heard you at it and she left to go back to her Mom’s.”_

Now you turn a deep shade of red. _“But you stayed?”_

_“Yeah, I, uhhh…”_

_“Did you get… turned on… by us?”_

_“Uh, accidentally… I didn’t mean to Holtz. But, the, er, noises you were making…” _She sucks air through her teeth, and swallows. You know exactly what’s coming next, but you wait for her to say it. “ _They, reminded me of… us… and I got a little hot under the collar…”_

_“Is that why you were in the bathroom? Were you… masturbating over us, Abby?”_

_“I, er… yes.”_ Her face falls and she looks at the once-white toecaps of her Converse. “ _I’m sorry, Holtz. I know that’s a breach of trust. But I couldn’t listen to you and be all horny. Really, I, I, I should have left, but I couldn’t and, well, I’m sorry. I really shouldn’t have done that, but I was so, ahem, wet, that I had to do something about it… It was only a quickie.”_

 _“Wow, Abby.”_ Your eyes widen in amusement and a smile creeps over your face. “ _Oh, my God. Never has someone actually admitted to doing a handy whilst I’m having sex. I don’t know whether to be flattered, shocked, embarrassed, creeped out or all of the above.”_

_“Look, it was the first… and last time, I’ve ever done that.”_

_“Dude, look, no it’s chill. We have history. I get that. Erin, might not… So maybe it’s best if we don--_ ”

“What’re you two gassing about?” Erin’s voice sounds overly loud in comparison to your whispering.

“I’m sorry, I heard you at it, and I did some…thi--” She trails off as you glare at her.

“You heard _everything?_ ” Erin asks. Now it’s her turn to blush.

“Yes, I’m sorry. Like I said to Holtz, I should have left, and I didn’t and I’m sorry.” She sighs. Erin’s already worked it out.

“Did you touch yourself whilst listening to us, Abby?!” She asks, shock lacing her voice.

“Erin, no one says that, we’re not 12.”

Abby looks between the pair of you and solemnly nods.

“Wooooow. I don’t… I can’t… How… What?” Erin stutters, unsure of what to say.

“Holtz and I have _history_. You know this. And, I was just reminded of when we… yano…”

“Were shagging?” Erin cuts in.

“Yes, and I got a little…”

“Horny?” She asks. Abby nods again.

“Jesus.” She facepalms.

“Hey, didn’t I tell you that ‘any woman would be turned on and sex noises are empowering; especially from lesbians’?” You say, giggling.

“You did. I just, I wasn’t expecting it, to be honest. So, first of all, we’ve been interrupted countless times. Our daughter’s walked in on us, your Father’s heard us, probably your Mother too, you’ve passed out from holding your breath, you’ve knocked yourself out during France, we’ve hurt each other, destroyed the lab and now, our best friend has just _masturbated_ in work, whilst listening to us. Great. Shall we make a porno?” Erin adds, sounding a little more than irritated.

You swallow and look at Abby, who looks sheepish and for some reason, on the verge of tears.

“I should have left, like Patty did, but I couldn’t help myself. I’m sorry, Erin, if I broke your trust.”

Erin lapses into silence and thinks for a minute, deciding what to say. “Yano what? It’s our fault for having sex in work, in the first place, but I’m not apologising for that, because this is the first time we’ve been interruption-free in months, and actually, doing it somewhere dangerous and exciting, where there is a possibility of getting caught, is quite a turn on, and actually Abby, I don’t care if you’ve done that, because that makes me feel proud, that me and my wife have such a positive effect on others that it causes them to want to get pleasure from someone else’s pleasure. It makes me oddly happy to know that we aroused someone else, from our lovemaking… threesome?” she asks, clearly joking, but from the look you receive from Abby, you wonder if she is at all joking.

“Uhh, honey, I, er, can’t tell if that is a joke, or if you’re genuinely wanting a threesome, because I thought you said that when you and Abby hooked up, you copped a feel and it ended awkwardly and I don’t want it to be weird between us, plus I’m not sure how I actually feel about sharing my wife with someone else, no offence Abs, but like, I married you for a reason, because I wanted you all to myself, I mean, sure, that’s okay if you’re in a polyamorous relationship, but I’m one for monogamy, and I’m feeling half turned on at the thought of having a threesome, as I’ve never done so before, but I’m also turned off thinking about having sex with the both of you, because I’m married yano, and I don’t want things to be awkward between you two, and have Patty walk in, because then it might as well be an orgy and I don’t think I can be dealing with an orgy right now, and, nope I’m definitely turned _off_ and I don’t think I can have sex again, like, certainly not in the lab, and as much as I love the pair of you I can’t…” you stop once Erin has started squeezing both your hands, and pulls you in for a hug. You realise you were rambling, and giving them a stream of consciousness and you were having a filter-less Autistic moment, whereby you said anything and everything which popped into your head without much thought.

Erin rubs your back in small circles and Abby prepares the coffee machine and three mugs. She sits on the worktop and says nothing more. Even Erin has nothing to say, so she continues to soothe you and you bury your head into her neck and shoulder, breathing in the ‘I-just-had-sex’ smell which lingers on one’s body. Your eyes are closed and you’re breathing in her smell over and over again, before letting out a satisfied, and somehow sexual, sigh. Erin stops rubbing your back and you pull yourself out of the hug.

“What?”

“That was rather, erm, _sexual_.”

“You smell good.”

“Thanks, DKNY.”

“No, you have the aroma of sex.”

“And what does ‘sex’ smell like?”

“Yano, sweaty bodies, but the good kind, and like, I dunno… It’s hard to explain. Abs?”

“Uh, the odour of sex, is like Holtz said, it’s sweat – but not like running or hiking sweat, that disgusts you, it’s sweet; it’s hard to describe. Go into your room and breathe in… smells like that.”

“I thought it just smelled musty and stuffy.”

“Yeah, but like the good kind. If Patty walked into my room, she’d know we’ve had sex. Or Kevin, Kevin would know. He hasn’t been here. He’d tell.” You add.

“Would he? He’s kinda… _dumb_.”

“Okay, er, Dani… Basically an outsider walking into a room afterwards would know that someone has had sexual intercourse in there.”

“Why _are_ we talking about the smell of _sex_?” Erin queries, knitting her brow together.

“Because your skin smells sweet, and of sex.”

Erin sighs, Abby pours three cups of coffee and hands them out. “Look, is it safe to call Patty back into the lab?” she asks, sipping at her black coffee with two sugars.

You and Erin exchange glances.

“I think so. And, to answer your question, Holtzy, baby. _No,_ we’re not gonna have a threesome, _or_ an orgy. I was 100% pulling your leg, and having a joke with you. It would be too awkward between Abby and I. And anyway, let’s not mention the…”

“Handy.” You add.

Erin knits her brow together again, and her nose twitches. “The _handy_ , that you gave yourself… Babe, that only works for penises.”

“It dooooes?”

“Yeah, cos it’s a _hand_ job.”

“Well, I don’t know. I’m gay as fuck.”

“Quite. Regardless, let’s keep Abby’s masturbatory session between the three of us; let’s never speak of it again. And that includes whilst drunk, _Jillian_.” She stresses your name for maximum effect. “Deal?”

“Deal.” You and Abby say in unison.

You all sit at the main table in the centre of the lab and Abby sends a quick text to Patty to tell her it’s safe to come back to the lab. She texts Kevin to ask him to come in and ‘man the phones’.

**_Twenty minutes later_ **

****

With Patty back in the lab, and an oblivious Kevin downstairs pinging an elastic band into his teeth – his usually spaced-out move, Erin suggests that you all get pizza, stating that she’s hungry from working hard. She doesn’t mean to drop that into conversation, but you kick her under the table nonetheless. She glares at you and mouths the word ‘ow’. You shrug and lick your lips.

“Hawaiian, please.” You state. “Pineapple on pizza – yuss!”

“Margherita.” Is Abby’s response.

“Yup, I’ll have a Meat Feast.” Patty quips. “Love a good sausage, me.” You choke on your coffee.

“And I’ll have Chicken and Mushroom.” You puff out your cheeks in discontent. She knows that mushroom is the wrong texture on your teeth, but knows if she orders her usual Pepperoni, you’ll be stealing her slices, as well as everyone else; you’re a vulture and everyone knows it. She dials the number for the pizzeria and waits for them to pick up, pacing back and forth in the process. Kevin appears from nowhere and startles you all.

“Uh, guys, what comes after 69?” He asks.

Abby and Patty stare at him.

“Mouthwash.” You reply, quickly and unthinking.

“ _70._ ” Erin says, still on the phone and trying to ignore your comment, considering what has happened no less than 40 minutes ago.

“Kevin, buddy, do you really not know how to count?” Abby asks, folding her arms.

“I’m not sure.” He replies, looking puzzled.

“What comes after 70?”

“Uhhhh… 73?”

“Really, Kevin?”

“No, just kidding. It’s 71. What’s the comment about ‘mouthwash’ though, Holtz?”

“It’s a joke. A lesbian joke.”

“It’s a sexual joke.” Patty adds, throwing you a look.

“Uh hi…” Erin disappears into an adjoining room to order the pizza, then quickly pops her head around. “Kev, you want pizza?”

“Yah, I’ll have Pepperoni.”

“Okay, and, uh, good luck with that.” She continues ordering the pizza.

“Why do I need good luck to eat a pizza?”

“Because I _love_ Pepperoni.” You reply, gleefully.

“You might wanna eat it downstairs, where she can’t get her hands on it.” Patty jibes.

“Oh, okay.” Kevin says, before vanishing to his desk again.

Erin returns from Abby’s room, with her nose wrinkled.

“Ohhh, I geeeet iiiit.” She says, elongating each word.

Patty frowns, shrugs and says nothing. Abby gets it, gives Erin a chin nod and returns to her coffee. As per usual, you’re the last to understand. You sigh, and begin to question it.

“What do you get?”

“What we were discussing before…?” Erin replies, trying to hint at you; it isn’t working, so you press further.

“What? What were we discussing?”

“Lesbian inside jokes, babe.” Erin says, literally to no avail. You look confused and scratch your head. Behind Patty’s back, Erin mimes ‘fingering’, with her index and middle finger, in the air and darts her eyes to Abby. You still don’t get it, and then it clicks.

“Ohhhhhhh…” you say, overly loud. “ _Lesbiaaaan_ jooookes. Riiiight, yeah, no I’m with you.”

Patty winds in her neck and looks at you funny. You shrug and slurp your cooling drink. Abby finishes hers and heads over to her half of the desk, momentarily she forgets why and then finds herself navigating Amazon.com to look for a new desk. Erin grabs _Eat, Pray, Love_ off the shelf and starts reading it, for the fourth time. Patty sniffs, clicks her tongue, inhales deeply and mumbles something about ‘New York History’ before heading upstairs to her section of the lab. Erin, still with her nose buried in the book elbows you and mentions the words ‘Slimer’ and ‘Black Slime Hole’. You cock your head at her.

“ _Portal._ I think the word you’re looking for is _portal._ ”

“Yeah, that. Go do research.”

You take the hint and follow Patty upstairs.

* * *

You’re not even settled at your desk, before Abby is calling you and Patty down and Kevin up for food. You sigh, drop your clipboard with a _clatter_ and shove your hands into your paint-splattered overalls, which you had lying around in the lab, from when you crashed there, and had changed into after your session with your wife.

Reminiscent of one of the many times you’ve gathered around the table to eat pizza, the phone rings and Kevin goes down to answer it.

“WEEEE GOOOOT OOOOONE!!!” He yells from the first floor.

You grumble. “Oh, one of these days, we’re actually going to finish a fucking pizza uninterrupted.”

Abby and Patty exchange looks.

“What?” you ask, tersely.

“My uniform is in the wash.” Abby replies.

“Yeah, my Mom’s cleaning mine.”

“Really? Do we have any spares, wifey?”

“Hmm, not that I know of.” Erin replies, scratching her head.

“We’re gonna have to go as we are then, cos mine and Erin’s stink to the high Heavens!”

“Uh, hell no. These jeans is expensive, man!”

You curse under your breath, but they still hear it. “ _Fuck._ Can we get like painter’s overalls, like the disposable ones?”

Abby turns back to her laptop. “Yeah, the decorators Downtown sell them; four left.”

“Fuck’s sake!” You growl. “To the Ecto!”

You’re the first one down the stairs and you bark orders at Kevin to open the garage, print out the address and tell you what class the spectre is.

“Four by the looks of it.”

He’s somehow learnt the Classification system (along with the phones) but strangely he is still at a loss for what you actually do each day.

“Kevin, man, did you actually go to school?”

“Yea, but I dropped out. I was in the remedial class.”

“Well that explains _so_ much… but what for?”

“Learning difficulties. They didn’t specify though.”

“Oh, okay. You know I have learning difficulties, don’t you? Well, they’re classed as such, and classed as mental health disabilities. You do understand that, don’t you?”

“Wait, you do?”

“Yes. Man, have you been living under a rock?”

“No, I’m not SpongeBob.”

You open and close your mouth. “Kevin, buddy, he lives in a pineapple under the sea!”

“Well, I don’t live there either.”

“Well, no, I can see that, but I sometimes wonder…”

“Yea, sorry about that.”

“Bud, you’re fine. Just gimme that address.” You make strange noises with your tongue. “Please.” You add.

He fetches the print-out.

“Ta.” You say and take it from him.

He opens the garage door and you jump in the Ecto-1B. Revving the engine impatiently, you await the girls’ arrivals.

Patty is the first to arrive wearing some baggy _LA Kings_ basketball shorts she found in the back of one of the wardrobes upstairs. You see her in your wing mirror and smirk. She catches you smirking and blushes. Opening the car door, she throws herself in and to the right side of the car and shoots you a look.

“Don’t.” she adds.

Abby, who hasn’t seen Patty since before she changed gets in beside her to see her toned legs on show, clad in her purple-and-black Nike high-tops, a graphic New York tee and her colourful, patterned jock jacket.

“Dang, Patty. Look at your thighs! Why don’t you ever get your legs out?”

“I like skinny jeans.”

“Okay, but where’d you get the shorts from?”

“An upstairs wardrobe. I don’t know who they belong to.”

You stifle a giggle.

“Something tells me madam here knows… Urgh, did you disinfect them?”

“Excuse me, bitch, they’re brand new!”

“Wait, they yours, dude?”

“Yeaaah.” You say, rotating in the seat and slapping Patty’s left thigh. “Ooh, you got some good strong muscles there.”

“Why do you have basketball shorts? You don’t play basketball.”

“I might do. They’re airy.”

“Do you… play basketball?”

“Erin used to.”

“Not what we asked.”

“Nah, but they’re good for summer months.”

“Honey, nobody looks good in oversized baggy basketball shorts, not even basketballers. What size are these?”

“Smol.”

“Wut?”

“Sma—nooo, medium.”

“But, you’re tiny, Holtzy.”

“Yah, so? I like baggy.”

“Baby, you don’t need basketball shorts. Why don’t you get some Target shorts which fit?”

“These were half price! $20.”

“And we don’t even live in LA. Why aren’t these _New York Knicks_ , at least?”

“I liked them. Look at the logo! I preferred them to the purple-and-yellow ones. If it’s an issue, you have them then.” You say, sulking.

“Baby, not what I meant.” Patty says, kissing you on the cheek. She pats your knee, then belts up. “Where the hell is Erin?”

“I thought she was behind me.”

“We’re late. We need to get overalls.”

“That’s why I’m in shorts.”

You connect your phone to the Bluetooth and dial in Erin. She picks up after two rings. “Baby, where are you?”

“Uhh… I’m on the toilet.”

“You’ve been 10 minutes!” Patty exclaims,

“Yeah, well, I … I’ll be there ASAP.” She hangs up.

No one needs to say anything, they know.

A few minutes later, Erin gets into the front passenger’s seat and kisses your cheek. She’s oblivious to Patty in shorts and belts up. She drums the dashboard and you’re finally on your way.

* * *

When you pull up outside the decorator’s you notice that there’s a sign taped to the window. You leave the engine running and hop out to look at it.

“Fuck.” You exclaim. A mother tuts at you and hurries away, shaking her head.

“What’s the matter, darling?” Erin asks.

“Closed for refurbishment.”

“Aww, man, you’re kiddin’, right?” Abby asks.

“Nah, I _wish_ I was.

“Damn it, we’re gonna have to go like this. But Erin, you said slime is hard to get off?”

“Yeah, it gets everywhere. In every crack. Horrendous to wash off.”

Patty sighs. “Shit.”

“Yeah, I know.”

You get back in the car and speed off to the location, in Downtown New York.


	57. Chapter 55

Thunder rumbles overhead as you pull up outside St Paul’s Chapel of Trinity Church, Wall Street.

Erin sighs. “You know, we could have walked. It’s a 9 minute journey.”

“But, Erin, honey, do you _want_ to carry 30lbs of gear on your back?”

“For 9 minutes? Yeah, that’s not so bad.”

“Well, then you can walk home.”

“Fine, I will, and I _guarantee_ I’ll be at the Firehouse _before_ you.”

“Okay, let’s make a bet, say, uhh… $5… I bet you that I will be home faster than you will arrive by foot.”

“Deal.”

You rip off your driving glove and spit heartily into your palm. “Shake on it.”

Erin pulls a face of disgust. “Really? Holtz, you’re not 12.”

“I mean…”

“I’m not spitting into my hand and shaking it. D’you know how many germs are in your saliva?”

“Enough to still want to make out with me, though.”

“Touché.” She spits a tiny bit into her hand.

“Nope, needs to be a globule, or it doesn’t count.”

“You’re disgusting.” But she does so anyway.

Your wet, germ-ridden palms squelch together and you give a hearty shake, before wiping your palm on your overalls, whilst Erin fumbles for a tissue in the glovebox.

Abby and Patty groan in disgust in the backseat.

As you push open the door, there is a sudden downpour and thunder rolls ahead, before lightning forks through the sky, the negative atoms splitting up the positive atoms, and the sound _cracking_ and sounding as if it’s going to rip the buildings apart.

You pull a face and grumble – You hate the thunder, too noisy and scary, but you love the lightning and the way it lights up the sky in a purple-blue way. Getting your Packs out of the boot in a downpour is going to prove tricky; not impossible, as thankfully you’ve waterproofed them (no one ever asked you how, they learnt not to ask questions) but you _will_ be soaked before you even start, and wet clothes, sticking to your skin, or rubbing and creating friction burns is very uncomfortable for you; sensory difficulties and all that.

“Aaabbbyyy?” You call in a whining tone.

“Hoooltzzyyy…?” she whines back at you.

She can see that you’re uncomfortable with the situation and you don’t want to inconvenience Erin as all she will do is fuss. You blow air through your nose and pull a half-pained, half-exasperated face.

“ _You okay_?” she asks quietly. You shake your head. _“You look uncomfortable.”_ You nod your head. The rain is so heavy that your crop top is sticking to your skin, as you’ve neglected a bra and it’s obvious that you’re now cold. Abby helps you to put on your Proton Pack, despite your protestations. _“I know, I know, but we have to do this bust. I know that you don’t like your clothes sticking to you, Holtz, and I know how much they rub. How do you cope with your jumpsuit?”_

 _“It’s thicker.”_ You whisper. The pair of you exchange looks and you notice Erin is adjusting the straps on her Pack for the first time in many years. “What’s the actual address of this Church?” You enquire, trying to distract yourself.

“St Paul’s Chapel, 209 Broadway, Lower Manhattan, New York. We’re between Fulton Street and Vesey Street. It’s the oldest church in Manhattan and the only one left from the Colonial period.” Abby replies, calmly.

You gasp, loudly. “Guys. 25 years… Shiiiit.”

“What’s the significance, Holtzy?” Patty asks, frowning.

“We were _all_ here, _twenty-five_ years ago!”

There is a chorus of “Huh?” in reply.

“Wait, what? You _don’t_ remember? Oh, man. Okay, so 15 year old me settled on using St Paul’s Chapel, _this_ Chapel…” you gesture at it with an open palm “as the site to conduct my _first_ weapons test, despite others urging me not to do so. Friday 13th was the date.”

“But where do we—” Erin begins.

“Oh, my God! Erin! We chose to stay overnight on Friday 13th, as our _first_ attempt to stake out a haunted house! You were worried about security guards or priests calling the police on us…”

“No change there then, worrywart.” You chuckle.

“Shit. I was here on a dare, as it’s one of the _most haunted_ sites in all of New York City. I was on the second floor, and saw two nerds – one short-ass with specs, and one nervous redhead – you two – breaking in downstairs. Some crazy blonde had a _huge_ weapon on a cart up on the same floor.”

“Yeah, and it went wrong, so I yelled for everyone to run for their lives, and all four of us ended up in the cemetery, behind some headstones.”

“And the Chapel partially exploded.” Abby and Erin reply in unison.

“That’s when we noticed each other and did a runner.” You quip.

“Yo, and then we didn’t see each other for years, but of course, when we met again, in 2016, it was over a decade and we wouldn’t have remembered each other as, except Abby and Erin, none of us was friends. Well, until you met Abby at Uni, Holtz.”

“Exactly. And apart from these two, no one knew anyone’s name. Can’t believe that we’re back here though, after _twenty-five_ years.”

“Just, er, try not to blow it up again.” She says, rolling her eyes, and elbowing you in the ribs.

“Class IV, Erin. Corporeal. Full-torso transmogrification… according to the input online. Kevin remembered its class and that was it.” Abby says, rolling her eyes.

“Collateral damage _will_ be inevitable, babe.” You reply, standing on your tiptoes to kiss her cheek, as she had lifted her head to peer over the wall, although what good that did, was anyone’s guess. The kiss breaks her from her trance and she licks her lips, before nodding quickly and striding towards the door.

The sky outside has blackened very quickly and you’re unsure as to why because the rest of the City is dry. As you all prepare to head inside the chapel, largely to get out of the rain, two black SUVs pull up. Out of one steps Agent Rourke and Jennifer Lynch, and out of the other steps Agent Hawkins.

“Oh, great. What’s Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dumb doing here?” you ask, flatly.

“And Jennifer… Yo, she’s so strange. Like she hates us for the press and then loves us when no one is around. Which split personality do you think we’re getting today?” Patty asks, jokingly.

“Ladies, hi, hello.” Jennifer sings brightly. “We have a little bit of a situation, that I’m hoping you can handle.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Is it a Class IV, Corporeal, Semi-Anchored, Full-Torso Transmogrification manifestation, by any chance?”

“Can you speak English?”

“I’m being specifically clear.” You say, mocking Abby at Seward Station to the graffiti artist.

Jennifer frowns.

“Let me, let me.” Erin replies, evidently mirroring herself. “Do you mean ghosts?” she asks.

“Oh, no, there’s a rift, a rip, if you were, in the time-space continuum.”

“Y-y-you know String Theory?” you ask, mouth agape.

“Yes.”

“What now?” Patty enquires.

“String Theory. It’s Einstein’s theory of special relativity which links space and time. Everything in the Universe has three _space_ dimensions, largely referred to as up, down, left and right, forwards and backwards and one _time_ dimension. This, collectively, is known as the space-time continuum. So, to better explain: the closer an object gets to the speed of light, that object actually experiences time at a significantly slower rate – think of Space Jumps in Star Trek…”

“Ooh, I _love_ that show.”

“Hmm… continuing. So, uh, according to Albert Einstein’s General Theory of Relativity, matter, which, as you _should_ know, is atoms, nuclei, particles, electrons, protons, neutrons, molecules, et cetera, et cetera… matter bends the fabric of space and time… fabric here meaning, uhhh… hmm… space-time is seen as a smooth fabric which is distorted by the presence of energy, thus being known as the _fabric_ of space and time; it helps us to visualise in conjunction with General Relativity. So, uh, theeee, fabric is bent and it even affects the behaviours of light. So a _rip_ in the space-time continuum, would, erm, be a way to transfer between dimensions, like, er, ‘ _War of the Worlds’;_ aliens, superheroes – like Thor coming to Earth, that, that kinda, oh, uh, like in, in, in _‘Doctor Who’_ in the, er, episode _‘Flesh and Stone’_ whereby there are cracks in Amy’s wall, which are cracks in space, meaning the Weeping Angels could get through, and they can turn you to stone… Argh, I’ve digressed too much, what’re we talking about?” you ask, suddenly losing your train of thought and wondering how you got onto Doctor Who.

“Rip in space and time?” Patty offers, questioningly.

“HA! YES!” You shout. “A rip in space and time. Yes, bad. Very bad. Anything can get through, _theoretically_ , if one were to believe in life on other planets. But, in this instance, a dimensional rip, would be like…” you pause, considering the implications.

“A portal.” Erin and Abby reply, worriment lacing their tone.

“Yes.” You say, eyes slightly wide, and monotone. “A portal. Between our world and the Ghostworld.”

“Ooh, cream and sugar!” Abby exclaims.

“Which means, that’s how Slimer got through. Which means that’s how ghosts can get through. Which means…” you pause for dramatic effect, even though everyone already knows what you’re going to say “…an apocalypse.” You hold your breath, staring into Jennifer’s face, not seeing her, but seeing past her. And then, you take off, running, towards the Chapel doors, taking the shallow steps three at a time.

Jennifer and the two Agents follow your direction of travel, but remain rooted to the spot. Patty claps Agent Hawkins on the shoulder and breaks him from his stare. “The big girls have got it now, man, so go home.” He frowns at her, but listens to her and clambers into one of the waiting SUVs. Agent Rorke and Jennifer climb into the other one.

With a deafening rumble of thunder, the girls look to the sky as you shoulder-barge the door. It swings open and you land in an untidy heap. Looking like an upturned turtle, you rock left to right, trying to put weight on one foot to stand up (without using your hands, as you like to challenge yourself) but succeeding in falling down again.

Two hands come down, hook you in the armpits and drag you to your feet. You turn to thank the helper and see Patty just rolling her eyes at you. You grin sheepishly, mumble a thanks and make your way through the awe-inspiring Chapel. You briefly take in the stained-glass windows, gun poised, ready to fire. And suddenly your stomach drops.

Patty retches, Abby grabs her stomach and Erin grimaces.

“Okay, did everyone just feel that?” You ask.

The others nod. There is a rumble underfoot, like an earthquake and the four of you exchange looks of panic at each other. Cracks begin to form and the concrete floor begins to split, cutting you off from each other. The walls change colour and the whole building shifts and warps before your very eyes. The roof of the Chapel is wrenched from the structure, by an invisible force, and there is a huge downpour; water cascading down and falling into the pits, the ruptures and the cracks in the floor. Lightning strikes a pillar and it _creaks_ , before swaying this way and that. It begins to fall and you launch yourself between two pews, hoping that, somehow, the wood will protect you.

The pillar misses where you’re hiding and comes crashing down a metre or so from your covering. The sound echoes around the room and the others, who also dived for cover, cautiously get to their feet, coughing from the dust, which permeated the air, like a mushroom cloud.

You scoot up to your knees and put your weight on your gun as you clamber to your feet. Waiting for the dust to settle, you try and locate each other. You notice that you’re all, roughly, in the pole positions of a compass – Abby at North, you at South, Patty at East and Erin at West.

“Well this is some real fucked up shit, yo. Did you piss God off?” Patty asks, pointing at you, to ram home the question.

You shrug.

“No, I don’t think this is God. More like Thor, God of Thunder.” Abby says, chuckling. “Whatever this is…” she continues, being serious for a minute “…this has Class VII written all over it. Whatever we were sent to deal with originally has been displaced and I think we might be a little under equipped.” She remarks, pointing to the lack of Proton Grenade sling on her or you. “There’s no Chipper or Glove, either.”

“So we’ve got our Packs and our Trap?” Patty asks.

“YES!” You yell, over a second rumble.

“WHERE’S EVERYTHING ELSE?” Erin shouts, looking pointedly at you.

“IN THE CAR. I FIGURED WE’D SCOPE IT OUT FIRST. I’M SORRY. I’VE FUCKED UP, _YET_ AGAIN!” You add, before sighing ridiculously loudly and looking at your boots.

“YO, HOLTZY, WE ALL FUCKED UP. NO ONE BOTHERED TO GRAB THEM!” Patty yells now, over the continuous rumbling.

“YEAH, HOLTZ, I’M WITH PATTY ON THIS ONE. WE _ALL_ MESSED UP, DON’T BEAT YOURSELF UP ABOUT IT. FIGURATIVELY OR _LITERALLY._ ” Abby replies, emphasising the final word.

“So, friends, what are we gonna do, because these gaps look way too big to be jumping across?” Erin asks, now it is suddenly quiet again.

There is a rush of icy cold air through the centre of the gap and a dark cloud – like a shadow – whizzes up the gap and the darkness spreads above you, consuming what little light was actually in the Church. The shadows creep down the wall, leaving, as you come to notice, actual trails of Black Slime, in their wake.

“THERE ARE NO FRIENDS, ONLY ZUUL!” A deep, echoing voice booms across the chamber, making all four of you quiver.

You gulp loudly.

“Er, did that shadow just say _Zuul?_ ” Patty asks, remembering the tape she heard back in the lab after you all defeated Rowan.

“I AM ZUUL. AND YOU SHALL BOW DOWN TO ME!” The voice comes again. It’s sharp, gravelly and gut-churning; like nails on a chalkboard. It makes the hairs on the nape of your neck and across your arms stand up. It’s authoritarian and frightening. Aggressive and demanding.

“EY, WHY YOU LIKE THIS?” Patty questions. Erin rolls her eyes, Abby sighs and you aim your gun at the centre of the mass.

“I AM THE RULER OVER THIS DOMINION. I WILL BRING IN A THOUSAND YEARS OF DARKNESS. I WILL CONSUME THIS WORLD AND ITS POWER AND GET STRONGER. I AM ALPHA AND OMEGA. I AM THE DARKNESS THAT BINDS YOU. I AM THE POWER THAT KEEPS YOU ALIVE. I OWN YOU. I CAN DESTROY YOU!!”

“Uh, that sounds like a mix of _Lord of the Rings_ , mixed with the Devil and like some horror movie shit.” You say, half to yourself.

“FEAR ME!”

“Uh, I’m cool dude. Yeah.” Patty replies. You snort.

Zuul draws in a sharp breath and cackles, making the very foundations shake. “MY GUARDIANS, THE TERROR DOGS, WILL MAUL YOU.”

Without warning, huge, grey beasts with thick haunches and a dog-like posture, but with horns and glowing red eyes appear out of nowhere and launch themselves at Patty.

“NO!” You cry, aiming the gun at one of them. You tell everyone to move out of the way, flick the toggle to _Shock Blaster_ setting, and go to town on its ass. It disintegrates into a mass of bubbling, steaming Slime. You laugh vindictively and gleefully, the laugh trailing off as you see the bubbles enlarging and the pieces stitching themselves together to reform the Terror Dog. “Oh fuck.” You say, as it rounds on you. Its size increases, similar to that of Rowan the Destructor, and you find yourself backing into the space between two longs pews. “No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no…” is all you manage to utter.

You hear the distinctive _tchwoo_ of the Proton Packs powering up and hold your breath, turning your face away, as three highly positive blue streams slam into the rump of the dog. You catch your foot on the pew leg, which connects the two pews together, and fall, roughly, onto the surface. You fire your stream into the ever-advancing dog’s face and it snarls and claws at the air in front of you. With four positively charged and strong beams, the beast disintegrates for a second time. As its bubbling mass lays there, you press the trigger button for an extra-long time, to make sure the beast doesn’t reform again.

It doesn’t.

Now, you all frantically search around the chasm for the second Terror Dog.

The darkness is still surrounding you, but the air temperature has returned to a mild heat. The Church is eerily quiet and you’re all not sure if Zuul is still present. You haven’t actually seen him (you’re assuming from the deep voice, but it could be a low-voiced female) and so you cannot determine if you’re alone or not.

“HE SHALL POSSESS HER AND SHE SHALL BECOME HIM!!” The voice breaks through the silence; well, that answered that question.

“Who? Who’re you gonna possess?!” You query, loudly.

“THE ONE HE FINDS MOST PLEASING!” The voice returns.

“Er, hate to disappoint, dude, but we’re all gay. Yeah, we’re all in one big homosexual relationship.” You reply, looking at the others and shrugging at their faces.

There is a loud scoff.

“POSSESSSION IS NOT ABOUT SEXUALITY. POSSESSION IS TAKING OVER OF ONE’S BODY TO DO MY BIDDING! IF I WANT TO POSSESS YOU, I SHALL!”

“Okay, good to know, but, er, for what purpose do you wish to possess?”

“TO BRING ABOUT THE END OF THE WORLD!”

“Ah, but you’re a weak-ass pussy who can’t do it himself, right? So, you need minions to fuck us up, because your power isn’t strong enough without it. Right, okay, well, errrr, no, fuck off. Bye-bye!” You sneer.

“Holtzy, do you _want_ to piss off the shadow?” Patty replies.

“Nooo… I just want him to know that we’re not gonna be messed with.”

“I CAN SEE INTO YOUR SOUL. YOUR PAST, PRESENT AND FUTURE. I SENSE A DARKNESS WITHIN YOU; DESPAIR, DISAPPOINTMENT, BETRAYAL, ANGER, CONFLICT. I SENSE CHAOTIC EVIL AND CHAOTIC GOOD. I SENSE HATRED AND DISAPPROVAL AND THE DESIRE TO BE NEEDED, WANTED, LOVED AND CONTROLLED. I SEE EVIL PEOPLE IN YOUR LIFE AND GOOD PEOPLE IN YOUR LIFE; ADMIRATION FOR THE SCIENCES, AND I SEE THAT YOUR YOUNGEST BROTHER IS NOT YOUR BROTHER.”

“Yeah, he’s my half-brother.”

“NO. THEY TOLD YOU LIES. HE IS NOT OF YOUR BLOOD.”

“Well, we have the same dad, so…”

“HE IS NOT OF YOUR BLOOD.”

“Meaning?”

“HE IS ADOPTED…” Zuul, pauses and you sense eyes boring into you – perhaps four pairs. You still cannot see him, but you sense his presence. “JUST LIKE YOU.”

“Pardon?!” You exclaim. “I am _not_ adopted.”

“DID YOU EVER WONDER WHY YOUR BROTHERS’ HAD A DIFFERENT FAMILY NAME?”

“Yo, what is this? Is this some kind of existential crisis?” Patty asks, hands on hips.

“Because they’re married.”

“NO. DIG DEEPER. YOUR BROTHERS ARE NOT YOUR BROTHERS, YOUR PARENTS ARE NOT YOUR PARENTS.”

“But, _they’re_ Holtzmann… And _I’m_ Holtzmann.”

“YOU HAVE BEEN FED LIES YOUR ENTIRE LIFE. I KNOW EVERYTHING!”

“Are you the Devil?” Erin asks.

“WORSE. MUCH WORSE.”

“Then why are you being nice?”

“I SEEK TO REMEDY THE PAST. YOU ARE NOT HOLTZMANN; THE ENGINEERING BOYS CALLED YOU HOLTZMANN – THEY MADE THAT NAME UP.” He pauses for dramatic effect. “YOUR NAME IS … JILLIAN GORIN.”

“Wait… So you’re telling me that my _mentor_ Dr Rebecca Gorin, is, what, my _mother?_ My _real_ mother? No, that can’t be – she never had any children…”

“That you know of…” Patty replies. “I mean, it would make sense. You both are just eccentric as each other. Like, I know that Gorin seems to share the same mannerisms as you, just less, uh, how do I put this… _animated._ ”

“Yeah, and what about having the same ‘Screw U’ brooch as your pendant?” Erin asks.

“Well, that was a, erm, that was a, mentor-student thing… She gave it to her best students.”

“And how many did she give out?”

“Just the… one… I believe.”

“What if that was her gift, as your mother, to you? What if she was telling you, all these years, that she is your Mom?” Abby enquires.

“But, none of this makes any…”

Zuul rounds on Erin next. “I SEE A DESIRE TO BE PERFECT. A DESIRE TO BE IN CONTROL OF PEOPLE AND THINGS AROUND YOU. I SENSE AN OBSESSION… NO. OBSESSIVE COMPULSIVE – YOU _MUST_ HAVE EVERYTHING ORGANISED AND IN ITS PLACE. YOU GOVERN YOUR FRIENDS AND YOUR PARTNER… SHE WHO HOLDS ALL THE CARDS, ALSO DEALS THEM. I SEE REJECTION AND I SEE ANXIOUSNESS. I ALSO SEE THAT YOUR SIBLINGS ARE NOT YOUR BLOOD.”

“Yeah, I grew up in Foster Care.” Erin replies and Patty’s mouth drops wide.

“YOU KEEP SECRETS FROM YOUR FRIENDS, I SEE… BUT MOST OF ALL, YOU KEEP SECRETS FROM YOUR PARTNER AND YOURSELF – YOU QUESTION YOUR ABILITIES AND YOUR SEXUALITY EVERY DAY; I SENSE THAT IS TROUBLESOME FOR YOU – YOU ARE UNSURE OF WHO YOU ARE.”

“No, I am pretty sure of who I am… I’m gay… Well, bisexual.”

“AND YOU WOULD LEAVE YOUR PARTNER FOR THE CHANCE OF BEING WITH A MAN AGAIN.”

“I would _not_. Absolutely _not._ I don’t want a guy, I’m perfectly happy with Holtz.”

“YOU WERE QUICK TO FIGHT BACK; YOU SEEM AFRAID. DO I FRIGHTEN YOU?”

“Your accusations do. Why are you making this up?”

“I ONLY SEE WHAT YOUR SOUL BEARS.”

“Wait, is that true? You’d rather be with a guy?” You ask, making a point of pulling ‘puppy-dog eyes’ at her.

“No, I don’t want to. Not anymore. I did before, but that’s before I got to know you, like _really_ got to know you, but now I don’t even _think_ about being in a relationship with a man.”

“LIES. ALL LIES. YOU THINK ABOUT SOME GUY NAMED KEVIN…”

“Kevin?! Our dumb receptionist? I think of how _dumb_ his is and why he still works for us.”

“YOUR MIND OFTEN WANDERS… TO WHERE HIS HANDS SHOULD BE…!”

“That is bullshit and you know it. You’re trying to drive a wedge between Holtzmann and I… between my _wife_ and I.”

“I ONLY SPEAK THE TRUTH.” Zuul replies.

You look at Erin and the others; brow knitted together. You don’t know what to believe – has your whole life actually been a lie, or is this monster, this _demon_ trying to manipulate you, to weaken you, so that he may possess you? You notice that he has yet to attack Abby and Patty, and yet, you get the sense that he is only going to attack you and Erin.

“I’m not a fan of this passive-aggressive behaviour.” Erin remarks. You stare at her, still frowning and then try to remove yourself from the situation by finding a corner to sit in. You no longer have the desire to participate and you begin contemplating leaving the three of them all together – your side is clear and you have, almost, a debris-free route to the door. You feel like you should have left, but you’re equally curious as to whether there will be any more earthquakes. For a Class VII, however, Zuul, seems to be rather placid and you’re pondering how long this nicey-nicey façade will last.

“SHE IS NOT AFRAID, SHE IS STUBBORN AND WEAK. A CHILD IN MY EYES. ONLY A CHILD GOES TO CRY IN A CORNER. IF SHE WAS STRONG, SHE WOULD FIGHT BACK. SHE WOULD TRY TO SEEK THE TRUTH AND LEARN TO ACCEPT THE TRUTH. HER MIND IS WEAK; SHE IS INTELLIGENT, YES, BUT SHE CANNOT PROPERLY GOVERN HER EMOTIONS, AND THAT IS WHAT MAKES HER WEAK.”

“She has Asperger’s, dude.” Patty retorts.

“A MERE CONSTRUCT OF HER MIND; SHE IS NO LESS THAN ANY OF YOU, AND YOU ARE ALL LESS THAN ME.”

“Yo, I’m not sure if that is a power thing, or a lady thing, but I’m mad as hell.” Patty aims the gun at the centre of the shadow, still emanating from the crack in the floor.

“PERHAPS IT IS TIME THAT I REVEALED MYSELF.” Zuul booms, voice echoing again.

There is a crack and the shadow expands, revealing a black humanoid beast, with glowing yellow eyes, 8ft long horns and a body of over 22ft tall. It towers over the girls and the Black Slime expands further out down the walls and along the floor. “ZUUUUUUUUUL!!!” He yells, as if you didn’t already know.

You’re still sulking in the corner, behind a pillar, and now you’re picking at the hem of your sleeve. Upon hearing the commotion however, you spring to your feet, ready for action and dash to where the girls, looking like ants in comparison to Zuul, are standing, trying not to cower out of fear.

You take in his sheer size and aim the gun at him. You don’t even need to apologise for storming off, your presence at their side indicates that you’re sorry and you yell “SHOCK BLAST!” at the girls. There is a little _ptchw_ at the Shock Blaster powers up and the four of you prepare to fire. “FIRE NOW!” You scream and four highly charged, blue streams fire into Zuul from all angles.

“YOU ARE NO MATCH FOR MY GREAT POWER!” He yells, suddenly hostile. He begins forming a fireball in his hands and swings around to aim it at you.

“Why is it _always_ me?” You question, and he hurls the fireball in your general direction. You launch yourself to one side, tuck and roll and feel the pew splinter beside you as raging hot fire explodes around you. Within seconds the pews catch fire and you’re trapped between burning wood. You look about you, trying to locate an exit point and crawl towards your corner, keeping low under the smoke. Once you’re clear of the smoke, you get to your feet, veer right and sprint towards the door. You stop, briefly, and yell at them to keep firing and dodging the fireballs being blasted at them.

As you run towards the door, the floor underneath shakes and cracks begin to form in your path, making it more difficult to bypass. You leap over the one spreading crack and slide under a bench, seconds before it too catches alight. You run towards the front door, and slam into a smaller side-door, taking the stone steps, spiralling upwards, two at a time. You enter the corridor, overlooking the main Chapel and sprint along the left side of the balcony, keeping the beast to your right. He is currently distracted by the other three and you seize the opportunity to strike from above.

Running towards the end of balcony, you notice one of the pillars has crashed into the upper tier, providing an almost-too-easy path towards the demon. You’ve seen enough action movies to execute the move of leaping from balcony, to pillar, sprinting across the surface, towards his head, springing up and shooting into its brain – well, assuming he has one – but whether that would actually work in real life is a whole different ball game.

Your reckless nature starts to take over, and any sensible inhibitions dissipate. You activate your sidearms and the mini doors in the side of your pack open, tilting the guns down at an angle. You snatch them up, lick the side of the right one, again, and climb the balcony railing. You realise, too late, that it’s far too high and you begin to wobble on the edge. Adrenaline courses through your veins, and takes over your instincts. Without fully comprehending what is going on, you’re racing over the stone pillar towards Zuul’s head.

Below you, Erin, Abby and Patty are still blasting Zuul with their Shock Blaster. Erin switches to the normal setting, and you just about hear the _ptchw_ as it engages. She fires a positive red stream into the beast’s face and he roars in anger, the sound reverberating all around you and shaking the pillar. Careering forwards, you continue to execute your plan and at the last minute, you feel yourself push upwards on your strong foot, propelling your forwards and upwards, left leg bent, right leg following behind.

You remember your after-school gymnastics and do a somersault in the air, aiming your dual Proton Pistols to the centre of Zuul’s head. As if in slow motion, you aim the guns, whilst upside down and squeeze the triggers. A small _pop_ sounds as the hammer engages and two small, but equally as powerful, Proton Streams, expel from the barrel of the guns. Zipping forwards they slam into the centre of his head and he roars in anger, and pain. As you slowly flip right-side up, his right arm comes up and grabs at the air.

You realise, in slow motion, that there actually isn’t anywhere for you to land and a fall from this height, will probably kill you. You try aiming your body, so you can slide down Zuul’s back to the floor. You pivot in the air and aim your boots at him, but suddenly, you’re grabbed tightly and the air is squeezed from you.

You wrestle in his grip, but he just brings you around to stare into his humongous, snarling face. You gulp, Proton Gun hanging down by its wires, the Proton Pistols ripped from their wires and falling to the floor. You kick your legs, trying to swing into him.

You then hear a _clatter_ as your pistols hit the floor. There is a bit of discrepancy of how they land, but you get the feeling that they have shattered into pieces, and your heart sinks. You hear Patty groan at them and realise that you were correct.

“Oh man, that’s not good.” She says, at the broken metal and exposed wires.

“HOLTZ!” Erin shouts, noticing that you’re now captured.

“What the hell is she doing?” Patty enquires.

You’re still swinging your legs, trying to gain momentum, but it is evident that Zuul is far too strong. His grip tightens and you feel your back crack.

“He’s suffocating her!”

“Alright, ladies. Let’s loosen his grip.” Abby cries.

Three Proton streams are shot into the base of Zuul, into his crotch, and he screams in agony, shaking the Church and cracking the walls, which mirror the holes in the floor.

The Church distorts and he pulls himself into the hole where he first came from, dragging you down into the darkness with him.

“NO! HOLTZ!” Erin howls, as you’re sucked into a portal.

It’s momentarily dark, and then you’re blinded by a purple light and then, there is a yellow light and you land, heavily on concrete flooring, having been thrown from Zuul’s grip.

You lie there, catching your breath, breathing in deep, trying to wait for your senses to return. You roll over onto your back and grumble in pain.

Looking up, you can see a small beam of light, and everything around you is floating. It seems to be a dimensional copy of the Church, but all the objects are animated and seem to be alive; perhaps by possession. A stack of books fly at you, the pages moving up and down, like wings of a bird and two of them slam into your chest, knocking the air from you, and slamming you onto your back again; but this time, you do a backwards roll, catching the top of the Pack and its frame on the ground, and putting pressure on your neck as your legs swing overhead. You push your feet into the floor, to avoid faceplanting and you successfully complete a skewwhiff backwards roll. You cough and wheeze and notice that, apart from these book birds, you’re all alone.

The book birds encircle you, like hungry vultures and you swat at them, before putrefying them with your Proton Gun. A fireball lands three feet from you; a warning?

You roll over and scramble to your feet.

“Hey, Zuuly? I geddit, okay. You’re trying to cut me off from my friends, and my wife. You’re turning them against me. Were you bullied in your previous life? Yano, that’s usually the root cause. Hey, Zuuly?!” You sing questioningly.

There is a _crackle_ of static and Abby’s voice cuts through the din – coming from somewhere around your hip. You don’t even recall being given a radio, but apparently you have one.

_“Holtz, Holtz? Are you okay? Can you hear me? Holtz?”_

You look about your person and can’t locate the radio. You peer over your shoulder, trying to see past the Pack. You begin rotating in circles, like a dog chasing its tail. Stopping, you unclip your Pack and lay it on the floor. And there it is – clipped to the base of your Pack, near the Ghost Trap – although, why there, is anyone’s guess – is a standard issue Military two-way communications radio. You unclip it and press the button on the side.

“Abs? Over.”

_“Holtz.”_

“Yeah, it’s me. Over.”

_“Dude, you don’t have to say ‘over’ every time, we’re not actually in the Army.”_

“Okay, yeah, well, uh, I think I’m in another dimension, like an Alternative Universe. The Chapel here is warped and yellow and there’s these flying books, they’ve been attacking me, like vultures.”

_“You’re kidding right?”_

“Honestly at this stage, I’m hoping I’ve been drugged with LSD and I’m tripping.”

_“That’s very specific.”_

“I actually feel like I am on LSD. The walls are moving, the floor is glowing. I… I _think_ this is the Ghostwo—Shit. Slimer’s here. Gotta go. Over and Out.”

 _“Holtz?”_ Abby asks, though she is met with silence _._

“We gotta get in there and help her.” Erin says in the Realworld.

“How do you propose we do that?” Patty asks, motherly-tone of voice.

“I don’t know. What if we jump through that large hole there?”

“And what if we just hit the grass? What happens if the portal has closed? It certainly looks more dormant than Rowan’s portal.” Abby replies. “Erin, I know you love her, but we can’t lose our heads now.”

“What if it’s an invisible portal?”

“What if it’s not?”

“I… I don’t know. I… I can’t lose her, like I couldn’t lose you, Ab. I can’t lose _any_ of you, and Jane…”

“I know, but we need to think logically about this. I don’t feel easy about this, the same as you, but Zuul was all bark and very little bite – I feel like the capture of Holtz was planned; it was too quick. It wasn’t like when Rowan grabbed me. I think he just grabbed me on the way down, but it was maybe unintentional. This felt intentional. He had an agenda…. _has_ an agenda. I don’t understand it, as much as you don’t, but we can’t start panicking; it’s what he will want. For us to lose our heads, and fight amongst ourselves. We’re lucky none of us actually got possessed!” Abby finishes, holstering her Proton Gun and approaching the hole you got sucked into.


	58. Chapter 56

“Oh hey, buddy.” You say as Slimer continues upwards from the floor he just floated through. “How ya doin’? It’s nice here, ain’t it? Just me an’ you… me and you.”

Slimer cackles and makes his usual garbled noise, which sounds intelligible and drunk.

“Oh, what’s that? You’ve come to play? Ah, okay, just one se-c-onnnd…” You switch on your UART and hear it make the _bworp_ noise as it is ready to activate. You smoothly pull the Ghost Trap from the straps below your Proton Pack and place it on the floor, whilst Slimer is still garbling. You give it a hefty push with your right boot and hear it slide across the floor – metal on concrete, setting your teeth on edge.

Somehow Slimer hasn’t noticed the apparatus appearing and continues to float, suspended in mid-air, staring at you. He cackles once more, makes a weird guttural noise and hurls himself at you. As he makes a high-speed beeline in your direction, you swing the Proton Gun out from the V-Hook and over your head, aiming the barrel at him. You thumb the red trigger button and a red-blue Proton stream blasts forwards and lassos around his middle.

The noises continue, and now realising he is caught, begins to pull first left, then right to try and shake himself loose. He rotates 180° and your right arm is pulled to the left so violently, it’s a wonder it hasn’t been wrenched from its socket! You groan in pain and follow the direction of travel; left with no choice but to start moving in a circle in an effort to keep him wrangled. You curse at him, under your breath and struggle to pull him down as he begins rising, yanking the barrel of the gun skywards. “Hey Slimer! Can… you… please… stop… being… a jackass?” you query, straining to keep him contained as he twists this way and that.

“ _Bleurghargarhaga!”_ he replies.

“Okay, well, have it your way.” You forcefully drop the gun towards the floor and this sends him back down towards the floor. Just before he comes into contact with it, you pull your arms upwards; both holding onto the gun, so he is whipped upwards, then downwards, then upwards again. You’re trying to slam him into the floor, to try and drain him, by making him dizzy. Its effects are working and he throws up green ectoplasm. You take this as a good sign, and whip him up and down a few more times, before flicking the toggle switches on your UART so it now reads _PEDAL ACTIVATED._

He continues to struggle violently, throwing up a second time. You wrinkle your nose at the stench and slam your foot into the pedal. The Ghost Trap springs open with a _clang_ and a cone of white light emanates from the centre.

_“Bleurghargarhaga!”_

The force of the Proton Stream, combined with the Reverse Tractor Beam, sucks Slimer down and into the trap where the dual doors _clank_ together and it _beeps_ as smoke billows from the trapdoor. You prod it with your foot for good measure, and as soon as the Neutrona Wand is back on the V-Hook, you throw up two middle fingers at the trap, and grin devilishly. “Dick.” You say, picking up the Trap to reattach it to your Pack.

There is a hearty, guttural, echoing chuckle and the noise fills the chasm. You sigh at the sound, something telling you that Zuul is about to return.

“SO YOU HAVE FINALLY CAPTURED THE ONE YOU CALL SLIMER. YOU KNOW HE USED TO BE A HUMAN? A DISGUSTING gluttonous PIG, WHO ATE AND ATE AND ATE. HE COULDN’T STOP EATING, AND SO HE ATE HIMSELF TO DEATH.”

“Fascinating.” You reply, sarcastically to the expanse. “You _really_ have a way with words, don’tcha? Hey, Zuuly, I got a question for ya! Did you get enough love as a child, before you became a Metahuman, or a God, or whatever thing from Hell you are? Cos you’re not very nice to people; I think that came from a lack of cuddles as a child. Like did your Mom ever tell you she loved ya?!”

“I KILLED MY MOTHER AS I WAS BORN.”

“Oh. Well… that’s, uhm, nice?”

“SHE HAD NO MORE USE. SHE WAS MERELY USED AS A VESSEL TO BRING MY CONSCIOUSNESS INTO A PHYSICAL STATE.”

“Well, that’s not very nice. You talk too aggressive.”

“YOU TALK TOO MUCH!”

“Well, ow, that was harsh. Rude. I’m wounded.”

“YOU’LL GET OVER IT.”

You tilt your head to one side, pursing your lips together, hearing the words echoing around your head. That one hurt; stung; cut through you like a Katana. The pair of you lapse into silence and you hear the familiar sound of Abby’s voice, floating up from your hip; where you moved the radio to.

_“Hey, Holtzy. How’s it going down there?”_

“Our less-than-favourite friend has returned. And Slimer’s in the trap.”

_“Oh, God, be careful! We’ll find a way to get to you.”_

“Yeah, I’m okay, just having a chat with Zuuly at the minute.”

“GOZER’S REIGN HAS COME TO AN END. PREPARE YOURSELF FOR THE REIGN OF ZUUL.”

“Yeah, okay, dude. Sure… Hey, uh, Abs, any ideas how to get _out_ of this portal? Never mind you trying to get _in_ how’s about I try to get out. You’ve done extensive research into portals, and other dimensions, and cross rips and alternative universes, how do I get out of here? Is it a one-way thing, or is there an option to bend the AU and come back to the RU?”

“The what?”

“The Real Universe. Out of this Alternative Universe. Is there a way? Please. I’d rather not be here alone with Zuul. He just mentioned something, or someone called Gozer, and said that Zuul’s reign is due to start. I… I… I’m…” you whisper into the walkie-talkie _“…scared, Abs.”_

“Look, Erin and I have done a _lot_ of research yes, but without our book…”

“Forget the book, Abby, that’s my wife in there! You and Holtzmann managed to actualise what we just theorised about, and we don’t have time to spend hours poring over the minutiae of detail in ‘ _A Glimpse into the Unknown: A Journey into a Portal; Catching Sight of the Other Dimension: Discovering the Undiscoverable: A Curiosity Piqued and Peaked.’_ We _have_ to try and remember and come up with something, and fast.”

“ _Okay, Erin, I need you to not panic okay? You know how when you panic, it triggers Holtz_?” Abby says, quietly, even though she isn’t holding the speaker button on the walkie, so you can’t actually hear her.

“No, I… what?”

“ _Yeah, Erin, if you panic, it triggers Holtz and she panics. And when Holtz panics it’s all worst-case scenarios and ‘we’re-all-gonna-die’ vibes and we don’t need that right now.”_

“How did I not know this?”

“You have an insider’s perspective, which will be altered and differ slightly to that of an outsider’s perspective.” Patty replies.

“Oh.”

“Oh, indeed. So, we need to come up with a solution to get Holtzy out of the AU before Zuul begins raining terror and those Terror Dogs on us!”

“Yo, why haven’t we crossed the streams?”

“I’m assuming three isn’t nearly as powerful as four, babe.” Abby says, hands on hips.

“Did you just ‘babe’… never mind… okay, so why can’t we just try it?”

“We don’t have an Nuclear Reactors, like on the top of Ecto, to reverse the polarity and get Holtzmann out of the Ghostworld.” Abby justifies.

“Then what do we do?”

“We have to get in there. Maybe defeating Zuul will somehow reverse the polarity and get us all out.”

“And if it doesn’t?”

“Then we will have to find another way.”

“ _What’s the odds of you getting me out, guys?”_

“Still working on it.”

_“What are the odds of you getting sucked into the portal and the four of us have to live out our days in the Ghostworld, forever?”_

“Uhh…”

_“Abby?”_

“I don’t know.”

_“Guess.”_

“50-50.”

_“I like those odds, but you’re lying. Erin… I love you, tell Jane I love her too. Just… just leave me in here.”_

“Holtzy, no, babe, I can’t leave you in the Ghostworld. I need you, our daughter needs you, the girls need you. Babe? Babe?” She’s met with silence, as you’ve turned off your walkie-talkie. “I’m gonna kill her when we get to her!”

“YOU RECOGNISE YOUR FATE. NOW, BOW DOWN TO ME AND BECOME ONE OF MY MINIONS AND I SHALL LET YOU GO FREE.”

“How’s about you let me go free, anyway, chump?”

“NO CAN DO.”

“You’re a twat, you know that right?”

“IS THAT ANYWAY TO SPEAK TO YOUR MASTER?!”

“Mate, you’re not my master and I’ll never do your bidding. So, just quit before you get too ahead of yourself.”

“PERHAPS THIS WILL ASSUAGE YOU.”

There is a _crackle_ and a _pop_ , a blinding bright light, like Magnesium burning under a Bunsen burner, and a _whoosh_. You are left feeling disorientated and have dancing black spots in front of your eyes. As your sight slowly returns, you see the unmistakable wave of curls, the white dress-shirt with upturned collar, black pinstriped waistcoat and grey trench coat (similar to your own). You blink a few times to make sure you are seeing correctly. “Doctor Gorin?” you ask.

“Holtzmann?” she queries.

“What? What’re you? How’re you? Why’re you?”

“I don’t know. I don’t understand what’s going on. One minute I was reading _‘Sense & Sensibility’_ the next, I… well, I don’t know where I am.”

“Wait… you read Jane Austen?”

“As a matter of fact, I do.”

“Well, kudos to you. I’m more of a ‘ _Pride & Prejudice’_ and _‘Jayne Eyre’_ books myself. But don’t tell Erin, she doesn’t know I read the classics. I’m currently reading _‘Haunting of Priory Lane’_ by Robert Vin. It’s set in Victorian Worcestershire. Quite an interesting read, if I’m honest! Anyway, what _are_ you doing here?”

Gorin sighs and adjusts the bolo tie around her neck, licks her lips surreptitiously and sniffs loudly. “I’m hoping _you_ can tell me.”

“HEY ZUUL. JACKASS. WHAT’S MY MENTOR DOING HERE?!” You shout, trying to sound intimidating, but hearing your voice wobble.

“NOT YOUR _MENTOR…”_

You sigh and turn to Gorin. “Hey, uh, Becca… Rebecca… Dr Gorin…?”

“Jillian.” she says pointedly.

“Is there, by any chance, by any stretch of the imagination… a possibility, er, that we, er, might… actually, yano… be of… maybe the same… _descent_ , of, of, er _ancestry_ … of _kinship,_ of, of… _blood_ …?”

“Are you asking if we’re related?”

“Yes, yes, are we related?”

“Well, let me see…” she pauses for dramatic effect.

“Are you mentally tracing your family tree, right now?”

She chuckles and fiddles with the ‘Screw U’ brooch, pinned just under the left lapel. “Why is this question even coming about?”

“Zuul said that I’m called Jillian Gorin and that I was adopted, and I have to know. I mean, my Mom always hated me, and hated me for being gay. You were the only one who ever understood that, and was oh-so-proud when I nearly blew up the lab in Engineering School and happily told me that my entire set-up downstairs in the Firehouse is a disaster waiting to happen, and we have the same symbol…” you pull your own necklace out from under your jumpsuit. “And we’re both so alike; the quirks, the mannerisms, the boyish clothes, the boisterous behaviour, it seems hard to believe that we’re _not_ related.”

Gorin scoffs. “Is that what you want to hear, Jillian? That this life you’ve grown up knowing is all a fake prelude to the fact that we are actually of blood, but I was a single parent, who was on the cusp of a very real Scientific discovery, but didn’t have the money for my own apartment, let alone raise a young child, and so that child was put up for adoption, because I needed the money to feed myself, and I knew, as much as it hurt, that the child would grow up having a much better life than I ever could provide, knowing that they would be fed and clothed, and hoping that, in time, I would forget about her, because I needed to… but I didn’t ever want to, but I _had_ to, because my life’s work was far more important than the life of a child, who came about through serendipity, but I _knew_ that I was an unfit mother to raise her and so she had to be given away, in the hopes that she would grow up knowing a different life, where she _was_ wanted, and she would be loved and where Science didn’t take over from the fact that I had another life, another mouth to feed, but realising over many years that I made a grave mistake, but had to pretend that I didn’t have a child, even though I saw her every weekday, and saw her growing up to become more and more like me, but I was too ashamed of what I had done, and the guilt always weighed me down, so I drowned my sorrows in alcohol and when that didn’t numb the pain, I turned to other drugs, struggling for many years with depression; battling on, treading the boards, trying to survive, until I decided to reconnect to my daughter, by becoming her mentor, guiding her, teaching her, pushing her, scorning her, mocking her failures, challenging her to overcome her struggles and her doubts, eventually producing one of the best Physicists I had ever known; more so than myself, and realising, that I had a High-Genius offspring, who had more intellect, more determination, more gravitas, more humour, more love, more kindness, with a stronger and better can-do attitude than even myself, and when she got her first Science Award, I was so proud, but I had to pretend that I was unfazed by this, by nature, by intolerance, but secretly wanting to hug her and congratulate her and hold her tightly and tell her that I was sorry for ever leaving her, for ever pushing her away, sorry for letting her grow up as someone else’s child and not my own; never once telling her the truth, for fear of rejection, and in those days, a female Scientist was unheard of, let alone someone with a Genius IQ; a single-mother who was the greatest Physicist in Columbia University was also challenged and frowned upon.” She stops, turning away from you as she blinks away silent tears.

You find yourself sitting cross-legged on the floor, with a numb right foot and watch her turn away from you. You’re desperate to hug her, but you’re unsure if this is the right time, so you sit in silence, letting it drag out into the void. Zuul has disappeared, leaving you to interact with each other on a much deeper level. The silence drags out, and even though you’re sure she’s talking about you, you go ahead and ask to clarify. “Sooo… is that story about me?”

She sighs, frustrated, wipes her eyes and turns to you. “Yes, Jillian. We can even do a DNA test to prove it. But, yes, I am your real mother, Jillian. I’m so sorry that I had to give you away.”

“But I don’t understand why you didn’t just tell me at E.S.?”

“I was too ashamed and afraid that you were going to reject me.”

“So, I _am_ actually Jillian Gorin? Where did Holtzmann come from?”

“Your adoptive parents. It’s a combination of names. – Holden and Williamson. Your brothers and mother are Holden, your father is Williamson. Your _real_ father, passed away a long time ago. I met with Karen and Greg when I gave you up to them. Your eldest brother was one of my students, and I heard him talking about wanting a sister, so he didn’t have to fight anymore, and so I asked him to stay back after class the one year, and explained that I could give him a sister. He must have been 13 then, so he knew what I meant, but that I would have to speak to his parents.”

“How much did they offer you?”

“Robert offered me a collection of _‘Hot Wheels’_ cars as a down payment, but I didn’t accept it. Your ‘parents’, loosely using the term here, gave me enough money to buy an apartment, and food because I was fired from my last job, for setting the lab on fire and burning down half the Science Department. I don’t want to get into too much, just know that I am sorry and I know that you could never forgive me, as I don’t forgive myself. You’ve come a long way, and yes, Karen has put you through some awful shit – you had bruises every day to show for that – and I couldn’t do anything about it, even though I wished I could.”

“Why, why is this coming about now? Why is Zuul here? Why are you confessing our relationship right now? Why is this happening at this point in time? Where has the build-up come from; when did it start? Why? So many questions, but _why?_ ”

“I really can’t answer that, Jillian.”

“’Ey, Zuul, whaddaya doing this for? Why now? Why, after 40 years is this being brought up in conversation. Forty fucking years, Zuul… _FORTY._ That’s a long fucking time, you crazy demon!”

“Holtz… Gorin… Perhaps a little less of the language.” Gorin says, in a motherly tone. You turn to her and wind in your neck.

“S-sorry. Look, you admitting to me the fact that you’re my mother isn’t gonna make me change my name from Holtzbert. I’ve been Holtzmann for years, and now that I’m married, I’m Holtzbert.”

“I thought by calling you ‘Gorin’ that would ram home the truth.”

“The truth’s out there, but it might as well be put back in. I’m not changing who I am, and you admitting this to me, isn’t going to change our relationship. You’re my _mentor_ and that’s it. ZUUL?! GET US THE FUCK OUT OF HERE, OR I SWEAR TO GOD…”

“I AM A GOD! AND YOU DARE CHALLENGE ME?!”

“LOOK, I AIN’T ABOUT TO HAVE SOME BIG BOSS BATTLE 1-ON-1, SO _PLEASE_ JUST LET US GO!”

“WHY SHOULD I? YOU KNOW, I’M STARTING TO HAVE FUN WITH YOU, PUNY HUMAN.”

You roll your eyes and grab Gorin’s hand, frantically searching for an escape route. You spot a door, and half guiding, half dragging Gorin, you make a beeline for it. You’re met with more flying books and you have to blast them out of the way, before a fireball, of unimaginable size, weight and calibre, slams into the door before you, engulfing it within seconds.

“THERE’S NO ESCAPE!”

“Oh, come on!” You retort, loudly. You spy another door and head towards it; another fireball and the pillar of the Alternative Chapel comes crashing down blocking your path. You turn back; another pillar. You turn to the left; another. To the right; another. You’re trapped between pillars that look like that of the Realworld, but are still misshapen and Otherworldly.

Lying on the floor, you notice that it is vibrating ever so slightly. You’re unsure of whether to take this as a good or a bad sign, but you tug at Gorin’s trouser leg to get her attention. “Doc, the floor’s vibratin’… come feel it.”

“Jillian, do we really…”

“Yes, yes, I need you to tell me I’m not insane… I need to know I’ve not lost my mind in here.”

With a sigh that almost echoes off the surface, she kneels down beside you and quickly places her hand on the floor. She ‘mmms _’_ and removes it. “Yes, fascinating, Jillian.”

“No, you didn’t feel it for long enough. Do it for longer.”

“Jillian, I don’t understand what this is supposed to achieve.”

“Mom, just do it, okay?” You ask, without even thinking.

She bristles, but kneels down for a second time, really feeling the floor this time. “Okay, so you’re not insane. This floor is actually vibrating. This _cannot_ be a good sign.”

She doesn’t mention the fact that you openly called her ‘mom’, but does recall a time during your doctorate student years.

* * *

Holtzmann had been distracted as per usual. It was common knowledge that this bright student, with her equally bright blonde hair and blue eyes, came from a troubled background, and used Physics experiments, that involved blowing various items up, as a coping mechanism. It was also common knowledge that this Physics student, who was now studying for her doctorate, suffered from a mental condition called _Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder_ and that was usually the cause of the distractedness.

Today was no different from any other day, except she seemed to be more distracted, and as a result, more _difficult,_ than usual. She didn’t _try_ to be difficult, she just asked the most ridiculous questions, which resulted in Doctor Gorin going off on a 45 minute tangent about how it was never a good idea to try to combine Magnesium, Baking Soda and Mentos into a bottle, to “see if it would explode”. The answer, of course, would be “yes” and Holtzmann would, as usual, grin with glee.

Her lab was filled with male students, with Gorin and Holtzmann being the only two females, it was a mirroring of Engineering School, of which Gorin was a mentor for Holtzmann, and now she was the tutor for the class.

Holtzmann was scribbling notes on a dog-eared notepad, in barely legible handwriting as Gorin came swooping by.

“Be sure to get those documents on my desk by tonight.” She said, as she brushed past Holtzmann, on her way towards Gared and Markus.

“Sure thing, Mom.”

It took a split-second for Gorin’s heart to flutter and the entire lab of 15 students to look at Holtzmann, who furrowed her brow in confusion.

Markus chuckled whilst Gared stared at Holtzmann before intervening. “Dude. You just called Dr. Gorin ‘Mom’.”

Holtzmann, who at this point, looked embarrassed, but was trying to play it cool, wound in her neck and pulled a face. “What? No, I didn’t. I said ‘sure thing, man’.”

Gorin, who was the only one around who _wasn’t_ embarrassed, perched on the chair next to Holtzmann. “Do you see me as a mother-figure, Jillian?”

Holtzmann scoffed and folded her arms, pulling an ‘are you kidding?’ face in the process. “Pfft, no! If anything, I see you as a _bother_ figure, because you’re always _bothering_ me.” A couple of students raised their eyebrows as their jaws hit the floor.

Tim, a middle-aged balding Lab Technician, who mostly kept himself to himself, piped up, for the first time in about 7 months. “HEY!” He yelled from the back corner of the lab. “Show your mother some respect!” He had an air of knowledge, yet he spoke in a mildly joking tone.

What followed was a chorus of ‘Oohs’, Jillian’s face turning bright red, Gorin patting her arm respectfully and her quieting the class down. As soon as they were all back working, she leaned down and whispered, in a rather sarcastic manner, forgetting that Jillian doesn’t understand sarcasm. “Do you want to talk about it later, while we braid each other’s hair?”

Holtzmann, who’s own mother, Karen, was nothing short of an embarrassment never did those sort of things with her, and so, in that moment, Holtzmann felt what it was like to be a six year old. As she spoke, her voice cracked. “Yeah, I’d like that.” She whispered back.

Gorin, feeling sorry for Holtzmann smiled and whispered her home address to her. She scribbled it down and Gorin added “Study session, you’re behind again” loudly so the whole class could hear her. Cue another round of flushed cheeks from Holtzmann. When no one was looking, Gorin and Holtzmann briefly embraced and as the golden locks came to rest under her nose, Gorin silently breathed in.

* * *

Gorin is brought back to reality by you struggling from her grasp. She had pulled you into a squeezing hug, as she reminisced, and currently she is smelling your hair, but not silently.

“Dude, are you… _smelling_ my hair?”

“What? No! Don’t be absurd, Jillian.”

“It’s okay, I do it to Jane too.”

“Who’s Jane?”

“My daughter. So I suppose, that would make her your granddaughter.”

“Wait? I’m a grandmother?”

“Yah. Erin and I got a sperm donor and we have a super intelligent, albeit a-little-cheeky-at-times, six year old.”

“My goodness! Six already? Gosh. I was gone for most of your life, and now I’ve missed the first six years of… Jen, did you say?”

“Jane.”

“Jane. Such a beautiful name.”

“It’s Erin’s middle name.”

“Then it’s perfect!”

“She has Asperger’s and ADHD too. Got that from me.” You chuckle awkwardly. Gorin looks at you. “That was my uncomfortable gay laughter.”

“As opposed to uncomfortable _straight_ laughter?”

“Heh. Trademark. Like my Lesbian Salutes.”

“I’ve a lot to learn.”

“You do, but we can start with the floor. Is it still vibraa-oh, oh, oh… fuck!”

“Jillian, I detest that kind of…”

“No, but, but look!”

Gorin whirls around to see a 12ft beast made of books, chairs and tables ambling towards you. Shaking the floor, the walls; the very foundations of the Ghostworld.

“‘Oh fuck’ is correct.” Gorin replies. “What in God’s name is that thing?”

“You mean what in _Zuul’s_ name is that thing? Looks like a minion of Zuul.”

“And who is Zuul?”

“The deep, booming disembodied voice that we… hello… uhh… Mom… RUN!” You yank her arm as a table gets launched in your direction. She cries out in pain, but you don’t have time to apologise as another table is launched in your direction. You’ve noticed that the pillars, which were once surrounding you, have now vanished allowing you ample room to run and manoeuvre around the thrown objects. You slam into a wall, forgetting you’re wearing your Pack, and momentarily wind yourself before noticing a door about five feet away. You edge along the wall, dragging Gorin behind you, trying not to alert the giant, which resembles a school classroom, to your location. It seems its eyesight isn’t brilliant, and you manage to sneak through the door, whilst it begins searching for you.

Keeping a low profile you ascend the stone spiral staircase, trying to keep your footsteps to a minimum, in case the Classroom Giant decides to punch a wall with a chair-and-table combination, killing you in the process. You have no idea where the stairs lead, but anywhere away from that monster is good. You begin to apologise for hurting Gorin, but she dismisses you by shushing you and placing her index finger on your lips. You keep climbing the stairs, until you push on another wooden door. It doesn’t budge, so you ram your shoulder into it another two times, before Gorin steps in front of you, twists the round black handle to the right and pushes the door inwards.

“Oh. There was a handle. Okay.”

“It’s a door. It will have a handle.”

“Yeah, I just…”

“Didn’t think. You do that a lot.”

“Hey! That isn’t fair!”

“I know, and I’m sorry, but it’s true.”

“I know. Holtzy sorry. I did bad.”

“Don’t do that. It cuts me up inside.”

“What’s happening, what’re we doing?”

“Talking?”

“No, I know, but why does me knowing that you’re my real Mom, feel all anti-climactic? Shouldn’t it be all bells and whistles and us crying about it?”

“I think you’ve seen too many Hollywood movies. Do you want it to be like that?”

“I… honestly… I don’t even know at this point. I want to know why I’m in the Ghostworld for a start and why _you’re_ here.”

“I don’t know why _I’m_ here. Why are _you_ here?”

“I got pulled in by Zuul. We were on a bust and I did some Lara Croft style running-along-a-pillar-and-jumping-in-the-air-shooting-pistols moves. It was cool as… like seriously, it was like an action movie.”

“Well, I’m proud of you. You were never the best with heights.”

“I hate ‘em.”

“But you got grabbed?”

“Yuh-huh. Scary ass muhfuk.”

“At least you’re alive.” Gorin says, placing a hand on your shoulder, just as some rubble is hurled in your direction. It slams into the ground, a mere ten inches away and you looked stunned, trying to locate the abuser.

“Where the hell did… Oh, hell… MOVE!” You yell, trying to grab Gorin’s hand again, but having to pull back at the last second as a fireball slams into the door behind you, disintegrating it immediately. “Jesus, someone is determined to kill us! ZUUL! ZUUL! OI! WHERE ARE YOU?!”

“HERE I AM!!” The stomach-churning familiar voice booms through the halls of the building, which less resembles St Paul’s Chapel, and more resembles a library. Zuul sounds eerily like Rowan, when Patty yelled for him to show himself. You can’t see Zuul, but you can feel his ominous presence and you’re not feeling too well; your head is spinning and everything is ringing in your ears. This is some sort of AP-xH shift, but much worse than at the Aldridge Mansion. You feel woozy and put your hand out to find something solid to support you, your vision blurs and your knees get weak.

“Jillian, what is it?” Gorin asks, concern lacing her words. “You look really pale.” She reaches you in time to grab your wrist and waist as you upchuck on the concrete. She begins unstrapping your Pack, as you continue throwing up, a little more violently this time. “Honey, what’s wrong?”

“AP-xH.” You say, before throwing up a third time, barely missing both of your shoes.

“Okay, Zuul, whoever you are, please stop making my daughter ill. Let us out of here, or there will be a price to pay!” Gorin’s voice, suddenly sharp, cuts through the silence and with one more upchuck, the feeling of illness dissipates and the usual colour your cheeks have, returns.

“YOU DARE THREATEN ME?!”

“Yes, I do. I know your weakness Zuul and I’m not afraid to expose that.”

“YOU KNOW OF MY WEAKNESS?! HOW WOMAN? SPEAK PLAINLY.”

“Tobin’s Spirit Guide. Says that you can be defeated by a total protonic reversal; which I believe Holtzmann knows what that means.”

“Crossing the streams. Also, Tobin’s--?”

“I’ll explain later. So, you gonna let us out, or do we need to create a catastrophic event which creates a portal to throw you down deeper into the pits of the Ghostworld, or should we send you to Hell?”

“How are you so calm?”

“ _I’m freaking terrified, this is an act.”_ Gorin whispers to you.

“ _Oh good, I’m not the only one then.”_

 _“Oh God, no._ Zuul? We’re waiting…”

“I HAVE REUNITED YOU. I SEE YOUR SOULS ARE AT PEACE. AWAY YOU GO, BUT MARK MY WORDS. I SHALL RETURN AND YOU SHALL KNOW PAIN AND DESTRUCTION.”

“Sounds like Rowan…” you begin.

The floor rumbles and a blinding white light fills the space all around you – top to bottom, left to right. You can’t see, so you grab Gorin’s hand and hang on tight. There is a feeling in the pits of your stomachs as if your soul is being yanked from your body. The walls crumble and the floor begins to fall away around you, but just as you fear that you’ve been tricked and you’re actually being sent further into the Ghostworld, your legs are taken out from underneath you, and as if you’re being pulled upwards from your middles, you’re both shot through the hole in the floor, and flung across the room.

As the bright white light forces its way through the floor, Abby, Patty and Erin jump back, throwing themselves to the floor and covering their eyes, shielding them from the pure light. Though blinded, they see two bodies coming up through the floor. Hearing the sounds of pain, Abby looks about her, still half-blind from the overly bright, white light. The light disappears instantaneously and the portal closes; it’s job done.

“Holtz, Gorin, is that you?” Abby asks, trying to see where you landed.

Gorin is the first to her feet, quickly brushing herself off, and straightening her clothes.

“OhmyGod, I think I broke something!” You yell, slightly muffled.

Abby looks about for the source of your voice. “Oh, shit.”

“Baby girl, are you okay?” Patty asks, trying to keep a calm voice.

“ _Ngh.”_ Erin replies, buried under Abby’s calf, which she promptly pushes away from her.

“Oh, it’s okay, I only broke my Hobnobs and Salty Parabolas in my pocket.” You say, pushing light debris from your chest and sitting up.

Patty, the first to arrive at your side, sighs. “Baby, why do you have food in your pocket?”

Erin finally frees herself from Abby’s calf and Church debris. “Because, and this is being nice, she is a squirrel.”

“I don’t hide my nuts, Erin. Point in check, I have no nuts, food or otherwise. I’m a mouse, I’m always hungry and so I eat. We’re trapped. Anyone hungry?”

You’re met with a cacophony of growling bellies.

“Oh, yeah, yeah, I am actually.” The girls reply in unison.

“Thought so.”

Gorin rolls her eyes, then joins the four of you for a group hug.

* * *

“Can I just say that I think all of that was a little too easy?” You say to no one in particular, as you reach the car.

“Easy? Holtz, you were sucked into a portal and gone for 4 hours and we were trapped in the Chapel, with a never-ending stream of angry, malevolent Class IV ghosts attacking us from all angles and we had no equipment to even get you out of the portal, our of the Ghostworld, let alone getting _two_ of you out. Abby straight up said it wasn’t gonna work, then she pretty much gave up after—”

“Patty! I did _not_ give up, Holtz, just so you know. I just didn’t have a plan.”

“Ya gave up.”

“Yeah, I’m with Patty on this one. Sorry, Abs, but you sat down, in a huff, and didn’t talk to us for a good twenty minutes. Tell me how that isn’t giving up.”

“I was thinking.”

“For twenty minutes?”

“Yes?” Abby says, before looking at her boots, as she unbuckles her Pack. You raise your eyebrows and shake your head. You’ll bitch and moan about her to Erin later.

“Anyone up for a meal out?” Patty asks.

“Indian? Chinese? Pizza? Pub food?” You query.

“TGI Fridays?” Erin suggests.

“Frankie and Benny’s.” Patty offers.

“Bro, they’re like the same food.” You retort.

“Yeah, but one’s cheaper.”

“Since when did you worry about money?”

“Since I keep buying you cheesesteaks, Holtzy.”

“Oh, yeah. They’re good, though.”

“They might be, but my wallet will be getting snapped shut quicker than a Venus Fly Trap, soon.”

“Okay, I’m sorry.”

“I’ll pay. You saved me. Let’s go to TGI’s. Their milkshakes are to _die_ for.” Gorin says, looking at four stunned faces. She places her index finger under your chin and pushes your mouth closed.

“Oh, yeah, cool, cool.” You reply, putting your Proton Pack on the gurney which Abby had silently pulled out.

Silently the five of you get into the Ecto and you head off to TGIs for the first time in weeks, to eat for the first time in over five hours.


	59. Chapter 57

“Okay, so tell me how you all met, then.” Gorin starts.

“Uh, Abby transferred to my high school, junior year and we just kinda bonded right away. I was a bit of a loner and after the old lady who lived next door to me died – I saw her at the foot of my bed every day for a year – I got called ‘Ghost Girl’ and Abby was the only one who believed me. We swapped ghost stories, we sat together at lunch, we hung out every day after school, and she was the first kid my parents _didn’t_ pay to pretend to be my friend. She was genuinely interested in my stories and wanted to know more. Not only did we bond over these stories, we shared experiences and both became interested, and subsequently obsessed, with the paranormal and the science behind it all. Whilst we may have gone to different universities in the end, we both kept in touch. And, whilst we were still in high school, we decided to write a book together.”

“ _Ghosts from Our Past: Both Literally and Figuratively: A Study of the Paranormal._ ” You add. Gorin shakes her head.

“Anyone ever tell you that that’s an absurdly long title, and it’s not very attention-grabbing?”

“Yeah, sadly.” Erin replies, disheartened.

“We sold six copies.”

“I thought we only sold two?” Erin queries, turning to face Abby.

“No, sold six. One of which went to Rowan…”

“…and the other went to Ed Junior. He said it was on Amazon and Books on Tape, too.”

“Yeah, I found a copy propping up the computer monitor in my lab, where I worked with Holtzmann.”

“When was that?” Erin asks, talking over Gorin, so she promptly closes her mouth again.”

“Well, we both graduated in May 1996, you went on to study Physics at Princeton University, until 1998, and I stayed on at Michigan in Grad school. We spent the summer of 1996 writing _Ghosts from Our Past_ and working on the Yates-Gilbert Equation of Spectral Field Theory. Between 1998 and 2016 we had fallen out, after you failed to show to the Wolverine Scene interview, because you deemed the book as being a 460-page gag and that none of what we wrote had an real, scientific experimental backing, and nobody would take us seriously in our line of work, not only because across the board we make up 4%, but as women, we would have been seen as comic reliefs amongst notarised male scientists, who should be in the running for Nobel Peace Prizes.”

“I-I said that?” Erin asks, puzzled and forlorn.

“Yes, and given your no-show at the interview, it was evident that without evidence, you wanted nothing more to do with the book and as such, I terminated our friendship.” Abby says, taking a bite of her now-cold food and pulling a discontent face.

“You remembered what I said, after all this time?”

“Some things stick with you. I held on to that for 18 years, Gilbert. And I very nearly didn’t agree to let you stay. I only agreed to take down the book until after you got your stupid tenure at your stupider college.”

“Well, ‘stupider’ isn’t a word, so…”

“God, you get _so_ cocky. Even without a suit on. Which for the record, does _not_ look good on you.”

“What, my beige checked skirt suit?”

“Yes, you look entitled and a Miss-Know-It-All.”

“I like the miniature bowtie on the shirt.” You add in a small voice. You dislike conflict of any kind, but conflict amongst friends really upsets you.

They ignore you and continue arguing.

“Well, maybe, if you hadn’t put the book online, without my permission, I might add, then I wouldn’t have needed to come by your office, your lab, whatever, to ask you to take it down.”

“Well, maybe if you had _actually_ showed up to the interview for the Wolverine Scene, I wouldn’t have needed to put the book online to generate a revenue stream. I was one tenth away from getting a new mini-fridge and you _had_ to show up and make some great big scene about how I put _our_ book online. I didn’t need your permission. We wrote it together. Both of our names are on the book.”

“But I co-wrote it, so it would have been nice if you had asked me.”

“I didn’t need to ask you. You would have said no anyway.”

“Because there was no experimental backing for anything in that book and it made us look crazy.”

“Just listen to yourself, Erin!” Abby exclaims, voice sharper than intended and loud enough so other tables stare. “You only make yourself look crazy by floundering about a book we wrote in our 20s. That book, if you recall, postulated the existence of a new gauge field, the ‘Spectral Ether’, and it was through localised excitation of this ether by interdimensional entities in the form of spectral and standard model particles that resulted in the manifestation of a spectral foam; dubbed ‘ectoplasm’. And don’t forget our theoretical equation on the Spectral Field Theory. No one had done anything like that before, we were the first to study the phenomena that the laws of nature cannot account for. We focused on the physical world and the metaphysical world. _How many_ others, specifically _male_ scientists did that?”

“Well, a lot, actually.” Erin adds.

“Name three.”

“Michael Persinger, Chris French and Steven Novella.”

Abby sighs. “They specifically focused on the Earth’s EMFs, they didn’t focus on the paranormal phenomena breaking natural laws, like _we_ did, _if_ you remember?”

“But the Earth’s Electro Magnetic Fields, link to the paradigms of the paranormal.”

Abby stabs her fork aggressively into her sirloin steak and chews it vehemently. She maintains hostile eye contact with Erin throughout. “Ghosts…” she begins after she’s finished her mouthful “…violate the Law of Conservation of Mass. They are known to possess both tangible and intangible properties, at times physically interacting with our world and at other times passing through walls. Since scientists can’t account for the behaviour of such entities using natural laws, they’ve all but dismissed the paranormal as a physical impossibility.” She says, hissing each word.

“But Abby, we have to look beyond the natural law. Spectral entities are natural law-breaking paranormal phenomena, which are labelled as being ‘spooky’ due to the behaviours of the particles. They’re _phenomena_ for that reasons; we cannot dictate how they will converge, react, or change the state of play.”

“Erin, that’s _exactly_ what we did. We used Quantum Mechanics to explain the spooky spectral phenomena. Don’t you remember anything?”

“It’s been almost 30 since we wrote that book together. I can’t even remember what I did last week, let alone thirty years ago.” Erin replies, creasing her brow.

Abby continues to eat her steak, ignoring the pleading looks from you and Patty shaking her head in embarrassment. Gorin remains unmoved and unnerved by the quarrel. Once she has finished eating (the last to do so; even slower than you, which is saying something) she continues her foray. She almost spits out the words. “Quantum Mechanics, or Quantum Physics, whichever you desire to call it, is accepted as mainstream physics, and anything deemed ‘spooky’ is labelled as a joke and laughed off. If you remember, our Spectral Field Theory used the Quantum Field Theory. Thanks to the physicists who constructed quantum field theory, we know the elementary particles at the root of the Standard Model of physics: quarks, leptons, gluons, photons, Z bosons, W bosons, and Higgs. However, the Standard Model, which governs the fundamental laws of nature, cannot account for the paranormal.”

Erin tries to interrupt, but Abby just glowers at her before continuing the tirade, although a lot less hostile than previously. “We did 5 different equations, varying in depth and complexity than the one before, which looked at the Euler-Lagrange limiting equation to start. We then considered a space-time _n_ -dimensional target manifold, which gave us a spectral gauge field with local coordinates, and then we expanded that where _f_ is a partial derivative of F, when PKE = PKE(x). The covariance of the Lagrangian can be modified by the coupling agent Y, where Y = any Standard Model particle. Ectoplasm was generated when the variables, which we derived in the Yates-Gilbert Equation were met. We made an in-depth study of the components which made up the Spectral Field Theory beginning with Psychokinetic Energy, then moving on to the Spectral Ether, then we worked on the durable but not impenetrable barrier betwixt the Worlds. We gathered information about the structural fluctuations of the barrier, which we described as being like a prison; the spectral ether that is. We know that the barrier is weaker in some points, which describes the geographical ‘paranormal hot spots’ known as ley lines. And, as we are all very much aware, ley lines are weakened points between the dimensions of our world – the Realworld, and the Paranormal world – the Ghostworld. Rowan used our book to determine the location of the ley lines throughout New York to create that portal; in turn releasing the ghosts.” She lapses into silence as the din of the restaurant fades and eyes turn away from your table to their companions.

You managed to stay during the disagreement, in part because you were interested in what each party had to say and because you didn’t want to make a show of yourself in front of Gorin. Not that you’re keen on taking sides, but Erin’s argument was pathetic and so, naturally, you fall in favour of Abby, although, to keep the peace, you bite your tongue and remain quiet. That is until Erin speaks directly to you.

“You’ve been quiet, what’s your thoughts, babe?”

“Huh?” you ask, pretending not to have heard. You’re now stuck in a dilemma and as such, you don’t want to stick up for Erin, for fear of pissing off your best friend, and her not speaking to you for the rest of the day, and simultaneously, you don’t want to stick up for Abby, for fear of pissing off your wife, and you know you won’t get any later if you do. You opt, instead, to just shrug, and gulp thirstily at your water, despite not actually needing a drink.

Both parties sigh, overly loud, and the whole table falls into silence. The check is paid by Gorin, whilst everyone else avoids eye contact. You catch her signing the receipt for the use of her credit card, and give a half-smile sheepishly. She pats your shoulder and gets up to leave. As you begin to rise to your feet, you notice there’s an ice cream machine in the back left corner, and your face lights up with glee. Gorin is the only one to notice and she disappears to the bar to pay for a cone. She nods her head in the direction of the machine, and you slink off unnoticed by the others. It is only as you arrive, licking a monstrous, four scoop cone, with chocolate sprinkles, hundreds and thousands, chocolate sauce _and_ strawberry sauce drizzled over the vanilla, mint choc chip, caramel and chocolate ice creams, that the others notice you were even gone.

Patty raises both eyebrows and widens her eyes in horror. Abby shakes her head and chuckles a little and Erin, being Erin, sighs and shakes her head. As you pass Gorin, she carefully pushes a 99 Flake in the soft surface of the mint choc chip ice cream and throws you a wink. You leave the restaurant with ice cream on your nose and all around your big grinning mouth.

* * *

With the ice cream demolished, and you feeling bloated and a little bit ill, you toss the keys to Abby and shrug when they land at her feet. You clamber in behind the driver’s side and wait for the car to fill up.

Gorin sits in front, with Patty next to you and Erin on the other side of the car. You try to rest your head on Patty’s shoulder, but you can’t reach, so you get comfy on her boob instead. She rolls her eyes, as you close yours, but makes no fuss about your choice of pillow.

Another silent car ride ensues; these are becoming a bit of a habit.

You mumble incoherently in your sleep, and dribble a little on Patty’s uniform, which no one seemed to batter an eyelid at in TGIs. She wraps an arm around your shoulder, to comfort you as you slip into a deep slumber.

Having asked her for directions, Abby drops Gorin off at her house and waits until she is inside before driving off again. You wake as the car dips in a pothole and jerks the framework. You sit up, bleary-eyed and frown in confusion.

“Pothole, baby doll.” Patty says.

You blow air through your nose and wipe the corner of your mouth, apologising as you sit up and stretch out your neck, the beginnings of cramp creeping in.

“Did you know that you snore?” Patty questions.

“No, I did not. Nobody told me… uh, was it bad?”

“No, they were cute little ones. But you grind your teeth something terrible.”

“Ah, Bruxism.” You say, unaffected by it. “Commonly caused by stress, anxiety, an overbite or crooked teeth.”

“You have good teeth, so what you stressed about?”

“Idunno.” You mumble. You know exactly what you’re stressed about, but you don’t want to share more problems with the group; you’ve always got a problem, and sometimes you wonder if you’re wearing your friends down.

“Holtzy, you know you can come to us about anything, right? And you do… mostly. So, what’s up this time?”

You shrug and ignore Patty. You stare sullenly out of the window and watch a raindrop slide down the glass.

“Is it about Gorin?” Abby asks, trying, and failing, to catch your eye in the mirror; least of all because you won’t meet hers and because you’re too busy staring outside.

You shrug a second time and trace the tail of the raindrop with your finger.

“Is it because Abby and I were fighting?” Erin asks, leaning across Patty to touch your knee. Her hand feels cold and not like her hand at all; it sends a coldness up your spine, and you shiver.

Avoiding eye contact you mumble that you “ _think_ it’s cos of the argument” and then you lapse into deep thought and don’t hear what comes next.

“I’m sorry we argued, sweetie. I guess I can be a little selfish at times.” Erin replies. Abby snorts and then coughs to hide it. Erin goes to punch her in the arm, but is deflected by Patty who glares at her.

“Ladies, ladies, what’s your problem? We’ve been fine all day, until Gorin asked when you met, and then suddenly it’s more hostile up in here than Harlem during a raid. Abby, Erin, go home. I don’t wanna see either one of you until tomorrow. No ifs, no buts, just go home. Holtzmann and I will clean the equipment and our uniforms.” Erin goes to interrupt. “Ey, no! No arguments. Auntie Patty says you’re both on a time out until you can behave like adults and not 5 year olds.”

Abby makes a detour to your apartment complex and Erin gets out in a huff. She tries to slam the door, but catches another glare from Patty and so she shuts it quietly and stalks off avoiding puddles along the way. You watch her go inside, before Abby puts the Ecto in reverse and bundles down the street towards her house.

Once there, she too gets out, but leaves the engine running. You get behind the steering wheel, and Patty sits next to you up front. You nod your head, Abby returns it, and she twists on her heel and stomps off up the steps and inside her pine-green front door. You sigh loudly, put the car in gear, and head towards the lab, at a slower-than-your-usual-hair-raising-speed, and even Patty is bemused by this.

* * *

You indicate to turn left and wait for the road to become clear before swinging the car around, so the rear-end is facing the garage. You wait for the door to fully open, put the car into reverse and back it steadily into the garage. As soon as you’re clear of the door, you press the button on your sun-visor to close the door and you switch off the engine. Waiting for it to _clunk_ shut, you drum your fingers on the top of the steering wheel and hum a little tune you’ve just made up.

Patty, already out of the car, with the boot open and the gurney pulled out, is in the process of bringing the Proton Packs inside to be cleaned of any Ectoplasm, and hung up to cool down.

You grab the remaining two packs – one slung over your back, the other cradled like a baby – and carry them to your laboratory, where they’re hung up on bars, which go through the backpack straps. Patty has already hung up hers and Erin’s and is now downstairs, checking the mail and any voicemail messages, whilst she brews coffee for the pair of you.

You silently close your door and lock it. Leaning against the door, you close your eyes and slide down it to the floor. You inhale deeply, hold the air in your lungs for a count of four Mississippi’s, before exhaling again. You realise you haven’t taken any meds today, but now you can’t be bothered; you’ll take them as normal tomorrow.

You notice how tired you are – not just mentally, but emotionally and physically. Your body aches from being contorted, thrown about and crushed. You rub the back of your neck and crack it, before cracking your back, knuckles, elbows, knees and wrists. You sigh contentedly and pick yourself up off the floor. Wandering over to your desk, you glance over your notes regarding Black Slime, and remember the video you made for everyone. You’ve left it downstairs, on the desk next to the Ghost Transporter, and you contemplate going to get it. You shake your head as if disagreeing with yourself and stoop to untie your shoelaces and pull off your boots.

Once they’re off your crack your toes and wander barefoot towards the sofa on the opposite side of the room. You throw yourself onto it and stare at the ceiling. Within minutes you’re asleep again.

The sound of rapid knocking awakens you from your slumber and you sit up in haste, spinning yourself out. You roll off the sofa and creep along the cold metal floor towards the door, you unlock it and fling it open to find a breezy Patty clutching a mug of coffee. She pushes it into your hands, and invites herself in. She’s too cheery for your liking, so you put that down to the coffee she has undoubtedly had. She plonks herself down at your desk, and rifles through your notes. You’re too exhausted to try and stop her. She notices your forlorn look and stops flipping pages.

“What’s up?” She asks, cocking her head to one side.

“Nuthin’” you lie.

“Holtz, I know when you lie. You look at your feet.”

“I do not.” You say, looking at your feet.

“You’re feeling hurt, and I’ll be damned if you’re not more than a little confused as well.”

You sigh for the millionth time that day, still hovering around your desk, before you grab the spare stool and perch on it.

“I am confused, Patty. Why Rebecca left me, how she is really my mother, how my Mom isn’t my Mom, how Zuul knew all this, how… what… why… everything.” You say, getting into a fluster.

“I know it ain’t easy, hon, but can you blame Gorin? I mean, she was young, she hadn’t any money, she couldn’t bring herself and a child up, now could she? You told us yourself.”

“So you’re sidin’ with her?”

“I ain’t sidin’ with no one. But put yo’self into her shoes and tell me you wouldn’t’ve done the same?”

“No, I wouldn’t. I would have tried to work around it, like I’m doing now. We’re successfully raising a single child and working.”

“But she was a single mother, with barely any income.”

“She shoulda taken another job then.”

“It ain’t always easy, Holtzy.”

“I wouldn’t have left!” You yell without warning. You even frighten yourself at the sheer volume and brevity.

Patty nods, and pulls you in for a hug. She doesn’t care that you shouted, she cares that you’re hurting. Unexpectedly, you sob into her bosom, and she hugs you even tighter. Rubbing your back in a soothing manner, she tells you that everything’s going to be alright and work itself out.

“How?” You ask her, muffled by her chest.

“I don’t know. It’s a mystery.” She replies.

After crying a bit more, you drink your coffee and together look over your notes on Black Slime, and the subsequent creation of a Black Slime Portal between the Realworld and the Ghostworld.

“Okay, so it sounds like we could have a real problem on our hands, if this stuff gets out. Caustic, you say?”

“Yeah, so you touch it and it causes damage to both the body and the soul; the stains don’t come out, and it stings like a bitch – actually, it’s a bit more violent that that; it burns.”

“And you know this how?”

“I ran some tests, obviously.”

“Obviously.” Patty replies flatly.

“It disintegrated the metal rod I was using… oh, and Erin’s desk.” You mutter quietly.

“Who’s what now?” Patty queries, looking at you, with brow furrowed.

“Erin’s desk.”

“Oh, is that why there’s now a shitty wooden one where hers used to be?”

“Yes, I dug it out of a skip at had to fix it up as best I could. One of the legs is 3 inches shorter than the rest, so it sits at a jaunty angle; I’ve yet to saw 3 inches off the other 3.”

“Has she noticed?”

“Uhm, I’m not entirely sure.”

“Holtz, you _do_ know that Erin has OCD, right? She probably _has_ noticed, but is waiting for the right moment to pursue it.”

“Nah… wait, I did get a text this morning.” You reply, running over to your leather biker jacket, to dig out your Huawei phone.

You unlock it and navigate to the messages app. You open it and find the conversation with your wife; she’s labelled as ‘Slime Lord’ as she keeps getting covered in slime, but whenever she asks to borrow it, you quickly change her name to ‘Wifey’ so she doesn’t throw a strop.

You open the text thread and begin reading them out to Patty, but not before you’ve cleared your throat loudly and obnoxiously, just like in Jacob Wirth Co. Restaurant. Patty rolls her eyes, but endures the showy behaviour.

 ** _Slime Lord  
_** We need to talk about my desk.

 ** _Ecto Holtzy  
_** Why? It’s a desk. What’s wrong with it?

 ** _Slime Lord  
_** It’s shorter. And doesn’t sit straight.

 ** _Ecto Holtzy  
_** Maybe you’re taller….?

 ** _Slime Lord  
_** Holtz… What have you done to it?

 ** _Ecto Holtzy  
_** I’ve not done anything to it! I think you’re imagining things, babe. Honestly, it looks like the same shitty desk to me.

 ** _Slime Lord  
_** I swear to God, Holtz, if you’ve tampered with my desk… Oh, my God… Just tell me what the eff you’ve done to it?!

**_Ecto Holtzy_ **

**Read at: 10:18am. Thursday 3 July.**

“You left her on read?! That’s cold, man.” Patty replies.

“I didn’t know what to say!” You whinge.

“Right, we need a ruler, a pencil and a hacksaw.”

“Uhm, what are you gonna do with those?”

“Fix the table, ya numpty! We need to measure 3 in. on the other legs, saw it off and then at least it’ll be straight; three inches to Erin’s height is minutiae. Three inches to yours, well, that’s a big deal.” She adds, chuckling and lightly punching you on the arm.

You frown, pocket your phone and run around like a headless chicken looking for the objects.

“Holtzy. Holtzy. Stop!”

You stop mid-stride. “What?”

“Why does _everything_ have to be a rush with you?”

“It’s Erin; she randomly turns up here.”

“She _works_ here.”

“It’s a Saturday. I’ve not messaged her since Thursday.”

“You live in the same apartment.”

“Yes, but she hasn’t brought up the desk, since. We’ve just been talking about Jane, and work, and then yesterday we had an argument, and today was fighting Zuul and we’ve sent the other two home for their argument.”

“What did you argue about?”

“The Chins. I want more, Erin doesn’t; she wants me to sell them, so we have a little more money for Jane and because I’ve been too tired to feed them, or clean them out this past fortnight, so she’s had to do it, and I’ve not been spending enough quality time with her or Jane, because of my non-stop research to do with Black Slime… Which is the reason why Erin has this shitty desk… so we argued about that and then today she had the fight with Abby, and because I didn’t side with her, I sense that she’s mad at me.”

“Holtz, man, it’ll be fine. You’re overthinking this as per ushe.”

“Am I?” You query, pitch risen higher than anticipated.

Your phone alerts you to an incoming text. You’re hesitant to see who it’s from. It’s Erin. About the desk.

 ** _Slime Lord  
_** So, what’s up with my desk, Holtz?

“Oh God, she’s asking about the desk again.”

“Right, let’s saw off three inches, we’ll take a photo and send it to her.”

“Add a paint can and brush to the mix and we can say we’re doing it up for her.”

“Alright, but I’m picking the colour.”

“ _Not_ pink.”

“Okay, what colours does she like?”

“Blue, but she’d kill me if we painted her desk blue as it wouldn’t be considered professional.”

“Okay, white, with a blue edge?”

“No, not good enough. She likes teak, red oak, knotty pine or alder woods… We could finish it in a paint?”

“Right, I have a tin of red oak paint in my Ma’s garage. Let me run home and grab some; y’all be okay sawing off three inches, right?” She shakes her head as if dismissing a thought and disappears out of your lab, down the stairs and out the front door; slamming it in the process. You sigh, mutter to yourself and go about looking for your tools.

* * *

The door slams open and the sound reverberates around the tiled chasm. “HOLTZ! I GOT IT, HOW YA GETTING’ ON?!” Patty voice cuts through the silence and disturbs your thoughts. You had done one of the legs, and then you got distracted by your notes:

Diary of Dr J, Holtzmann.  
2/10/22; 04:36a.m.  
  
EUREKA!  
  
I’ve done it!

  
I have FINALLY uncovered all of the properties of Dark Matter, more commonly known as ‘Black Slime’. It is filled with concentrated negative energy and it’s weakness; as Dr Abby L. Yates has discovered, is Slime (Ectoplasm).  
  


Black Slime is encountered in locations of intersection between the Realworld and the Ghostworld. It is a highly dangerous substance formed of Ectoplasm supersaturated with negative energy.a. Black Slime is incredibly causticb and will cause severe damage to anyone heedless enough to come into contact with it.  
  
Based on its spectral resonance echo, Black Slime also appears to function as a conduit for PK Energy and could, if saturated with enough spiritual energy, conceivably act as a Ghost Portalc (I have researched all possibilities of this happening, and have come to the conclusion that it can happen In the case of Rowan’s portal, he created a vortex by creating devices which attracted and amplified paranormal activity, and used said devices to charge the Ley Lines to create the aforementioned vortex. But, we shouldn’t forget that Rowan’s miniaturised cyclotron used a chromium alloy, and of course, I would have used aluminium; but I’m crazy, so…) Back to the matter in hand… a Black Slime Portal is a Class I Transdimensional {Dispersible} Corporeal Conduit, with a weakness to Slime.  
  
It is noted that these conduits, or dimensional rips, provide temporary and highly unstable portals between our world and the Ghostworld. It is not known if these portals are formed in especially dense pockets of Black Slime (hereafter referred as B.S.) or if the portal forms first and the B.S. follows through the resulting weakened dimensional intersection (I don’t really want to find out!) Either way, these conduits are inextricably tied to B.S. and the neutralisation of surrounding B.S. has been known to close the Black Slime Portal as well (as per subject test conducted with biohazard gloves and Hazmat suit at a safe distance – and nothing got blown up! Eat that, Erin!!)  
  
It is to be noted, and that means by everyone – KEVIN – that the contact protocol for this caustic substance is to NOT MAKE CONTACT AT ALL!! Even minimal contact can cause moderate damage; and that’s with protective gear in place – the super long metal tongs I used to prod it (and to prod the DLA device when I created the Mark II Proton Pack) were melted; burnt out, like they were dipped in acid. Avoid this substance at all costs; as if it were the plague in old-timey Medieval England, and neutralise it with positively charged slime… The stuff which keeps attacking Erin… I will need to create an additional feature on the Proton Packs – Mark IIB – and this will be known as the Slime Blower (Kevin, no sexual innuendos, please!) which shoots positively charged Psychomagnotheric Slime at the Black Slime/Black Slime Portal.

  
Psychomagnotheric Slime, as I have created on the laptop, is a powerful psycho-reactive substance that responds to human emotional states, both positive and negative, from which its reactions depend. Therefore, it can also be called ‘Mood Slime’. Its main ability, as I have exposed during my BetaVision Test, is that it has the ability to open portals for ghosts to enter our realm, and it can also animate objects. So, combined, Psychomagnotheric Slime and Black Slime Portals will wreak havoc on our beloved city, unless we can counteract both, with Slime that is positively charged, like our Proton Packs.  
  
Not to frighten anyone, but I have concluded that whilst Black Slime is dangerous, it is, thankfully, very rare.  
  
Again, using the BetaVision application, I have created a simulation of the Slime Blower. From this, I have modified the slime so that it is self-regulating, and therefore will remain positively charged; now to actually get this inside, or attached to the outside of our Packs! During the simulation, the ectoplasm severely damaged paranormal entities, neutralised B.S. and drove out several ghosts from possessed people; handy if Abby gets possessed again! The Slime Blower (hereafter referred to as S.B.) will let loose a jet of slime as long as you fire it, or until its temporary reservoir runs low; whichever comes first. If your other weapons don’t seem to be too effective, try using your S.B. The slime in the tank (which I will add to the packs, but which I have successfully rendered and tested digitally) regenerates, so it might actually be the most efficient weapon we can have.  
  
This concludes my extensive research; coupled with extensive research from Drs Abby Yates and Erin Gilbert and some historical research into the Ley Lines, and areas of heightened paranormal activity from municipal history expert, Patty Tolan. We took 2.5 years to gather information in relation to ‘Slimer’ and 4 months to research Black Slime/B.S. Portals and areas of weakness in the ‘barrier’.   
  
Now to actually develop the aforementioned Slime Blower and test it out in the real world: Alleyway Test no. one coming soon…  
  
Successful research, successful digitised tests, successful note compilations, successful theorised practices. Successful everything.  
  
Yes, I am a genius. No, I am not apologising for that.  
  
Erin – Keep your mitts off my paperwork.  
Kevin – Fix and refill the Tassimo coffee machine.  
Abby – Thanks for the help.  
Patty – I love you, bring me a cheesesteak!  
  
Start Date: Tuesday July 2, 2025;   
Start time: 04:36a.m.  
End date: Thursday October 2, 2025  
End time: 09:20a.m.  
Hours of sleep: ?  
Hours awake: 336 hours (14 days.)  
Consecutive hours awake: 26 hours  
  
Conducted by: Dr Jillian Holtzmann, PhD Particle Physics. Ghostbuster, Senior Proton Wrangler, Senior Weapons Developer, Weapons Tester and Modifier, Munitions Expert. Particle Physicist, Nuclear Engineer.  
With help from: Dr Abigail L. Yates. PhD Physics, Ghostbuster, Author and Dr Erin Gilbert PhD Particle Physics. Ghostbuster, Author. Historical information provided by Patty Tolan. Municipal History Expert and Ghostbuster.  
  
IQ score: 163 (Although I feel a mix of more intelligent and less intelligent through repeated lack of sleep)  
Brain power and Cognitive Thinking: Overloaded and Sparking (Have taken 4x Adderall and 1x Sugarfree Redbull, in last 24 hours)  
  
Aspie Meltdowns over the past 4 months: 2,500   
Over last week: 400  
ADHD Moments; (inc. lack of concentration) 4 in the last hour (and hyperventilating) 20 minutes in last hour  
  
Additional Notes:  
  
a) Black Slime is a toxic and dangerous substance filled with concentrated negative energy. – Dr. Abby L. Yates  
b) It causes severe damage to anyone who comes into contact with it.  
  
c) Based on its spectral resonance echo, Black Slime also appears to function as a conduit for PKE energy, and could act as a ghost portal. – Dr Abby L. Yates.

You were too busy, buried deep within your research notes, that you didn’t hear Erin enter your lab a mere five minutes before Patty starts yelling. You look up at the noise created downstairs, and jump in astonishment at Erin’s presence. You promptly fall off your stool. You grab the side of the stool and stick out your hand when you see Erin’s shoes on the other side; you don’t want her help.

“Erin, hi. When did you…?”

“Five minutes before Patty came back. I looked around downstairs for a bit, just in case you were there, and when you weren’t, figured you were up here.”

You dump yourself on your stool and it swivels around the opposite way. You rotate counter-clockwise to face her. “Well, I’m here, and I was reading over my notes for Black Slime. What’s up?”

“My desk. What have you done to it?”   
Patty enters carrying paint cans and you try to subtly gesture to her with your eyes. Erin suspects that you’re up to something, so she turns, but as she does so, Patty quickly hides the paint and paintbrush behind her back. She smiles sweetly and apologises for intruding, before doing a little bow and backing out of the door.

“What are you two up to?” Erin asks, brow furrowed and hands on hips.

“Nothing.”

“You’re lying.

“Only because it’ll ruin the surprise, Erin. You have to leave again.” You say, trying to cover the hacksaw with your notes. Thankfully, Erin doesn’t notice. She narrows her eyes at you, _hmm’_ s and leaves the lab. Passing Patty, she furrows her brow at her, shakes her head slightly and clops off down the stairs, heels _clicking_ on the lino flooring.

“Man, that was close.” Patty says, after she’s shut the door.

“I nearly caved, but I didn’t.”

“I know, baby and I’m so proud of you.”

You begin measuring 3 inches off the remaining table legs and have Patty help you to flip the table upside down, you consider it for a moment and then you lie it on its side, so you can get to the legs easier. You get to work sawing at the legs, whilst Patty pries open the paint pot.

With much cursing from the likes of you, and Patty, your work is complete and the lid is off the paint. She gives it a quick stir with an old paint-covered dessert spoon and dips her brush directly into the pot. Within five minutes the table is back upright and there is one coat over the surface of the wood. You like the look of it, so Patty expertly paints the legs and leaves it to dry. As soon as the lid is back on, there’s a knock at the door.

Patty gingerly opens it, and there stands Erin accompanied by a man dressed in high-waisted jeans, a Levi t-shirt tucked into the waistband and dark trainers. His hair is slicked back with _Brylcreem_ and he looks as though he has walked straight out of a 50s movie, but his attire is completely inappropriate for the era. On his right wrist is a silver Chopard wristwatch; you recognise it and your heart stops. You realise who this man is and mentally work out how long it’s been – roughly five years.

The man is Craig.


	60. Chapter 58

Your head reels and you feel like you might be sick, so you run off to the bathroom in your laboratory. You leave the others puzzled and slam the door shut. You wait a couple of minutes, and sure enough you vomit.   
Erin makes her way over to the bathroom, and knocks politely on the door. When you don’t answer, she announces it’s her, and quietly opens and closes the door. She rubs your back in circles as you vomit again.  
She whispers pleasantries to you, but you don’t hear them – you’re wrapped up in your head, you have a million and one questions flying about and you don’t know where to begin. You finish vomiting and flush the toilet before washing your hands, and pulling a face at yourself, and incidentally at Erin, before jutting out your bottom lip in a sulk. She disappears to find a mint, or some chewing gum in her handbag. Patty has beaten Erin to it and appears in the doorway with Trebor Extra Strong Mints. She proffers you one, and you grimace as you take it from the packet.   
Popping it on your tongue, you let it sit there, feeling the minty tang spread across your taste buds. You suck at the mint as you head towards the door of the bathroom. You inhale, blink at the strength of the mint, which is incidentally clearing your sinuses and compose yourself. Stepping into the lab, you stride across the room to stand in front of Craig.  
The silence drags out, so you allow yourself to be the first one to speak.  
“Hi Craig. What are you doing here? And why now? And what have you been doing? Where are you living? Are you still a C.O.? Does your wife know you’re here? Oh, I notice you’re still wearing your watch, does it remind you of what happened? If you’re here now, what have I done? What have you done? It’s been five years, why now?”  
You manage to ask every single question floating around your head and Craig looks overwhelmed.  
“Woah, woah, s-slow down, alright? Just breathe. Let me answer each question, one at a time.”  
“Alright, you have five minutes, I’m busy.”  
“Please, Jillian, it’s gonna take time.”  
“Alright, ten minutes.”  
“Baaaabe.” Erin draws out. You look at her, she gives you an unimpressed look and you meet her expression with a sigh.   
“Fine, go ahead.”  
“Alright, I will. How about we sit down?”  
You plonk yourself on your stool. Patty and Erin go to leave.  
“Stay.” You order, with slight malevolence in your voice.  
They grab a chair each and sit around Erin’s newly-painted desk. You worry that it’s still wet, so you touch the surface lightly with a fingertip. It leaves a slightly red mark and so you tell them that the desk is wet.  
Erin raises an eyebrow, before cottoning on. “So that’s what you’ve been doing to my desk? You’ve painted it!”  
“Surprise.” You say flatly. You swallow loudly and then fold your arms across your chest. The others decide to lean back in their chairs so as to avoid getting paint on their clothes. “Right, ten minutes. Whatever you have to say, get it out.” The malevolence is back, and this time, Erin notices it.  
“Babe, that’s not how we speak to guests.”  
“Guest?! GUEST?!” You snap. “Point me in the direction of a guest, and I will speak to them politely.” Erin gestures to Craig. “Craig is not a guest. Just because you helped me, doesn’t mean I have forgotten each and every time you tormented me, abused me and fucked me…” you sneeze.  
“Wait, he…” Erin lowers her voice “…raped you?!”  
“No, no, no, no, no… extremely badly timed sneeze. Fucked me up.”  
“I was just following orders.” Craig replies solemnly.  
You’re suddenly enraged. With fists balled up and anger etched across your forehead, you retaliate. “Following orders?! What about following morals? I’m a human being, not an experimentation, or a freak, or whatever the hell your boss thought when he KIDNAPPED me!”  
“I didn’t know that…” Craig begins to protest.  
“Oh yeah, yeah. He failed to tell you that, did he? Kidnapped me, after he tried to run me off the road, I suspect!”  
“What do you mean?”  
“Oh come onnn! Don’t play dumb with me! I was in a violent car crash, for fuck’s sake! And here you are, acting all innocent, like you have no idea. Yano, I bet it was you, wasn’t it?!”  
“Actually, Jillian, I had no idea that you were in a car accident. I am genuinely so sorry to hear that.”  
“Oh please, you think I’m gonna fall for that?! Alright, get up, c’mon, get up. Now. My foot’s going up your ass!” Craig stays put. “C’mon. You an’ me, lez go.” You stand up so quickly, that the chair catches behind your knees and crashes to the floor. Without any warning, you get a sickening flashback to yourself sat in a chair, crashing to the floor. You get a splitting headache as the back of the chair comes into contact with the floor and you clutch your ribs with one hand and your head with the other. “What the…?” you begin, before violently throwing up, in a waste receptacle near by.  
After a few minutes of throwing up, you calm yourself and cough repeatedly. You inhale deeply and sigh.   
“PTSD.” Craig mutters.  
Your ears catch the word and it echoes around your head. “P…T…S…D…” you repeat each letter slowly.  
“Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder.” Erin replies.  
“I know what it is.” You snap. “I know…” you voice drops. And your eyes don’t meet anyone else’s. You check to make sure there’s no vomit on your clothing, or shoes, before barging past everyone, slamming the door and racing down the stairs. Erin stops you halfway.  
“Honey, do you need me?”  
You stop, straighten your back, partially look over your shoulder and then speak to the wall. “I…I…I need to be alone for a while.” You turn your head so she doesn’t see you crying and you start running down the stairs, across the hall, past Ecto-1B and to the side door, set into the main double doors. You wrench it open, cross over the threshold and for the first time in a long time, you turn left down the street, instead of right, and disappear into the rain.   
Erin, who watched you leave in complete silence, sits on the step you stopped on and weeps softly.  
The sky is growing darker as you move further from the Firehouse. You can’t believe that you’ve gained an extra ‘problem’ along with your other problems. Of course, Erin wouldn’t call them ‘problems’, but why should that mean that you can’t use the term? You’re the one who has to live with them; with being different, so why can’t you call them things as you please? You find a rock on the floor and kick it a little ways in front of you. When you reach it, you kick it again, and this time, it nestles itself between two toecaps of some very worn brown leather boots. They look like yours, except yours are clearly Oxfords, and these appear to be workman’s boots, or even Dr Martins. You keep walking, head down, hands in pockets, counting the slabs between you and the boots… one… two… three… fo—you avoid the broken one… four… five… six. You stop toe-to-toe with the person and look up to see a familiar face you haven’t seen in months.   
“Hello Dani.” You say, glumly, and to the boots.  
“Hallo Holtzmann.” She replies, far too cheerily for your liking. She lifts your chin with her hand, and for once you don’t flinch under the contact. “You’ve got a bee in your bonnet, wassup?” she queries, seeing the confusion behind the glassy eyes, fighting hard to not let water slip down your cheeks.   
You swallow, think for a minute, but then resign yourself to simply shrugging.   
“Cat got your tongue?” Dani tries again to make you smile, but alas, it’s to no avail. “Okay, something’s really got you down, if you’re not smiling at my nonsensical, whimsical phrases.  
“I’m fine.” You lie. For the hundredth time that day.   
“Nu-uh. Nope, no, uh-uh. Nada. You are not okay. Let’s grab a coffee and talk it over.” You begin to protest, but she shushes you, grabs you by the hand and drags you into the Starbucks, conveniently on the corner.  
She pulls you inside and you reluctantly follow her to a more secluded part of the coffee shop. Two high-backed red chairs sit facing each other, close to a wood-burning fire. A oak-topped table with brass legs sits proudly in the centre. She pushes you into a seat and disappears to the counter to order two coffees.   
You watch the flames dance about in the fireplace, before the aroma of coffee beans fills your nostrils, and a Grande Americano is placed in front of you. You momentarily look away from the flames to grab the cup, which promptly steams up your bottle-cap glasses. You blow on the surface of the liquid, before tentatively sipping at the succulent Ethiopian blend, indulging in its flavour, and sighing blissfully.   
Dani takes that as a good sign and smiles into her cup as she too drinks long and deep. “Right, so start at the start and tell me what’s up since I last saw you.”  
“I don’t know where to begin.” You start.  
“You can start by telling me why you’re so glum.”  
“Someone I’ve not seen in 5 years has randomly turned up, and there’s suspicion that I have PTSD. On top of all the other shit I have.”  
“Like what?”  
“Like my Asperger’s, my traits of OCD, my ADHD, my traits of Anxiety, my Depression.”  
“Well, let’s start with the facts. You’re diagnosed with Asperger’s, ADHD and Depression, correct?”  
“Mmhmm.”  
“Okay, and the rest are traits. I have Anxiety and OCD. There’s nothing wrong with having them. Makes you human, in my eyes.”  
“Erin has OCD.”  
“And do you love her any less?”  
“No, but…”  
“No. That’s it. There are no ‘buts’. You love her just the way she is. She loves you just the way you are. You can’t ask her for more than she is already giving you. And as for the PTSD… I don’t want to be giving this as a suggestion… but maybe…”  
“Don’t say therapy.”  
“Therapy is a good idea.”  
“No. It’s-it’s not.”  
“As a child, it may seem like the worst thing ever, heck, even as a teen, but I swear by it.”  
“I’ve been…”  
“And?”  
“Negative associations.”  
“Well, there’s the problem. You need to let go of your past, and your pains, and step into it with a new found hope, a new thought process… a new…”  
“My past is the reason for needing therapy.”  
“Oh.”  
“I just discovered that the woman who raised me, whom I thought was my Mom, isn’t actually my Mom. Turns out, my mentor, Dr Rebecca Gorin, is my Mom, would you believe?”  
“Holy Smokes! So you’re Mom’s not been your Mom this whole time?”  
“Uh-huh. Crazy, huh?”  
“Yeah, it is, but I mean, you found out who your real Mom is. That’s great. Isn’t it?”  
“I don’t know. I’m not sure how I feel about it.”  
“Holtzmann, you’re what, 30?”  
“40…”  
“Oh… well, look, it doesn’t matter. You’re a grown up. If you don’t want to be happy about it, you don’t have to be, but you have to have a reason for why you aren’t happy. Okay? You can’t just say, oh, I dunno… ‘I don’t like purple because I don’t like purple’. There has to be a reason. Like I don’t like the colour yellow because it’s too bright and cheerful and I’m not a bright and cheerful person. Yano? So if you’re unhappy that Dr Gorin is your real Mom, you gotta have a reason why.”  
“I’m unhappy that she left me. She abandoned me.”  
“Oh. Well…yeah…that’s reason, I suppose.”  
“Exactly.”  
“So what about your fake Mom?”  
“I hated her growing up. She abused me.”  
“Well, that can seriously affect anyone. PTSD cos of that?”  
“Probably. And a fear of becoming like her. And a fear of falling into an abusive relationship. And the PTSD was from being abused by Craig – he’s the guy that’s randomly shown up after 5 years. He beat me, after I was kidnapped and held in some sort of prison.”  
“That’s terrible.”  
You nod and drink your coffee, savouring it from the moment it touches your lips, to the moment the mug is empty. “Why do you think I’ve got so many problems, and trust issues?”   
“Man, that’s so hard to hear.”  
“Sorry. I shouldn’t burden you with all of this.”  
“No. I asked. You have every right to feel safe and that what you tell me won’t get repeated.”  
“How are you so good at getting me to be open?”  
“Psychology Major.”  
“Ah. Yes, well, that explains that then.”  
You lapse into silence, but not before Dani asks you to consider therapy, because she knows how helpful it will be to talk about your feelings. Feelings. That’s what got you into this mess in the first place. Feelings. The word echoes around your head space and you don’t hear anything else of what Dani has to say. You just nod and pretend you’re listening. She knows you’re not, but says nothing of the matter.  
You agree to go to therapy, so long as what you have said to her doesn’t get repeated to the others. Least of all to Gorin. Dani agrees and finishes her coffee. You check your watch and decide that it’s been long enough since you disappeared to have a sulk. You hug Dani goodbye, and walk back towards the Firehouse. Despite the downpour, you don’t quicken your pace. You figure you’re already wet, so you may as well stay that way.

* * *

Slamming open the front door, you begrudgingly walk through it to find a very sombre Erin still sat on the steps. It appears that Abby is dealing with Craig and Patty is currently making a cup of coffee for the visibly-upset Erin. She looks up to see you shutting the Firehouse door, but makes no attempt to come to you, or even to say hello.  
“Um, hi.” You say sheepishly. “I’m sorry I ran off. I just needed to be by myself.”  
“Do you know how hard it was to not follow you, babe?” Erin asks, before adding “And hi.”  
“Given it’s me, and given it’s you, I’d say that it was rather difficult for you to not come tearing down the street after me… Yeah, no coffee for me thanks, Patty, I’ve just had some… I’m sorry I’ve been running off a lot more lately, I haven’t done that for years, but I’ve just got overwhelmed with a lot of information, and a lot of new information and you know how I struggle to proce—” you trail off as Erin’s lips press into yours and your heart stops momentarily as pure unadulterated love courses through your veins and fills your heart aglow.  
“I know. That’s why I let you go.” She replies, breaking apart from you.  
“Mm, no…” you say, pulling her in again. You’ve not finished kissing her yet and you show her that you’re unfinished.  
“And that’s how I know you two are good. Right, well, Abby and I will be on the first floor, entertaining our guest. Holtzy, Erin, might I suggest you take it to Holtzy’s lab and… not doing it down here on the flooooor?!” Patty emphasises as you two start to hastily attempt to take off each other’s clothes.   
You stop, realise where you are, and flush red, before grabbing Erin’s hand, giving it a small squeeze and racing up the stairs, with her to your laboratory on the third floor. When you get to the first floor, you kiss her in view of Abby and Craig and run up to the second floor, where she grabs the front of your dungarees and makes out with you on the wide landing.  
Abby walks past the doorway and rolls her eyes. Craig sheepishly finds a chair to sit at, and Patty re-enters expertly carrying three mugs in one hand.   
“Damn children.” Patty mutters, as you giggle like a teenager.   
You grab Erin’s hand again and pull her up the stairs to your laboratory. Once inside you push the door shut, without removing your lips from hers, and bolt it behind you. There’s no chance that you’re going to be disturbed today.  
Before too long the pair of you are standing in your underwear, ogling each other’s bodies, when a quiet sneeze comes from the shadows. You freeze – deer caught in headlights – and Erin quickly scans the room. Neither of you can see the intruder, so you switch on the lights and scream.  
“MOOOOOM!!!!” You screech. Sure enough your mother is sat on a stool, in the corner of the lab, although this ‘mom’ isn’t Rebecca Gorin; it’s Karen Holtzmann. Another person whom you didn’t want to see today. You grimace and hurriedly don your dungarees, and pastel-blue One of The Boys muscle-tee, only to find that Erin is already dressed and Karen hasn’t reacted. You sigh, loudly. “Lord, give me the strength I need today, to deal with this situation.” You pinch the bridge of your nose, close your eyes and count to 10. “Mother. Karen. I don’t even know what to call you anymore.”  
“Meaning?”  
“Apparently, my mentor Dr Rebecca Gorin is my birth mother, and you, well, you adopted me.”  
“Yes, that’s correct.”  
“You kne—YOU KNEW! AND YOU DIDN’T TELL ME?! YOU HAD THE AUDACITY TO KEEP THAT INFORMATION TO YOURSELF?! ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME, RIGHT NOW?” You yell, forehead vein bulging, face reddened with anger.  
Erin, stunned by the sheer volume, widens her eyes and even cowers a little bit. Karen, whilst alarmed, doesn’t make any movement.  
“You never asked.”  
“WHY?! WHY WOULD I?! I THOUGHT YOU WERE MY DAMN FLESH AND BLOOD. I ASSUMED THAT WE WERE RELATED, BECAUSE OF THE SAME LAST NAME, BECAUSE OF MY BROTHERS.”  
“Whom are not related to you…”  
“THAT IS NOT THE POINT! I THOUGHT YOU WERE MY FUCKING MOTHER AND IT TURNS OUT THAT YOU WERE FUCKING LYING TO ME ALL THOSE FUCKING YEARS!”  
“JILLIAN!” It’s her turn to shout. “Watch that language!”  
“NO! I am not a five year old, and I am pissed beyond belief.”  
“Babe…” Erin begins, although it is futile.  
“NO! I am so angry right now.” Your fists begin to ball up in a rage. You look this way and that, trying to find something, anything to launch, to break, to smash into something else. You’re not thinking or seeing properly, and so you dive for a pipe, which you had been saving to manipulate into another Proton Shotgun. You find a blank wall and swing it as hard and as fast as you can into it.   
The vibrations ricochet up your arm and wrenched your shoulder, but you really don’t care. You swing again and slam into the wall’s edge. You keep swinging and swinging and swinging, until you start to chip away the brick. This really isn’t good enough for you, so you swing again, and again, and again, until you smash the anger and rage out of you. As if the wool has been lifted from your eyes, you suddenly stop, noticing what you’ve been doing, seeing the damage, and letting the pipe fall from your hands, with a deafening clatter you sink to your knees and sob.  
Neither Erin, nor Karen, come to your aid at first, leaving you to cry it out and calm yourself down. It seemed to have worked a little bit, as you certainly do feel calmer, but then you’ve autopiloted into a ball on the floor and Erin is by your side, comforting her.  
“Oh, go pander to her.” Karen barks. “She pulls this stunt all the time. She shouts, she rages, she breaks something, she sobs, she curls up and sobs some more. You’re just rewarding that negative behaviour, she is acting like a five year old, and really ought to grow up.” Karen huffs and slings her handbag over her shoulder. “I just came by to tell you that Greg and I are moving to the Midwest.  
You stop crying and manage to sit up. You pull a huh? face and stare at her vagrantly. “Whhhy the Midwest?” you ask, slowly and deliberately.  
“Well, your father struck gold. His cousin’s Uncle owns a ranch and it just so happens that the Uncle, God rest his soul, passed away from a heart attack, a week ago, so Greg’s cousin, Pablo, recently renovated the ranch and was offering a room in exchange for work. Your father saw the ad on Craigslist, rang up cousin Pablo, and well, he got a job there. We’re movin’ tomorrow.”  
“And what about the boys?” You ask, hesitantly.   
“Oh, they’re old enough to take care of themselves.”  
“Except Ethan, who’s 20. Still theoretically a minor in New York, ma.”  
“Oh, yeah, Ethan is coming with us. The other boys, well they’re stayin’ put, sugarplum.” She replies. You notice she’s put on a Midwestern drawl and your skin crawls. “So, yeah, looks like we’re done with you. Bye!” She laughs malevolently, unbolts the door, and slams it behind her, without so much as a backwards glance.  
“Wanna talk about it?” Erin offers quietly.  
“Which part? The part where my ‘mother’…” you air quote the word “…has lied to me? The part where she’s upping and leaving and taking Ethan? The part where she put on a skin-crawling accent?” You scoff. “Oh, I dunno. The part where she knew about Gorin being my mother? Or, the, uhm, the, the tantrum.” You ask, looking down at your Vans.  
“Oh, sod the tantrum. I’m over that. How are you doing? Like really doing?”  
“I-I don’t know. I feel sort of, well, sort of…numb, I guess. Can we, can we not talk about it? I don’t want to. I just want to forget.”  
Erin leans in close to whisper into your ear. “Would making you feel all sorts of pleasure help you out, right now?” You nod. “Well, Mrs Holtzbert, that exactly what I shall do.” A smile spreads over your face as she lifts you up, spreads your legs with her knee, and pulls your hair, to expose your neck; upon which, she plants fiery kisses, which in turn makes your fine hairs stand up. Your knees buckle, but she doesn’t let you fall. She hoists you up, so your legs are around her waist, and carries you over to the couch. Sitting you down, she gently pushes you into a lying position, and proceeds to undress you. You let her, without running your hands down her body, and she tilts her head at you. Furrowing her brow, she asks “You’re not touching me?”  
“Not yet.” You reply.  
She Hmmphs but continues to undress you, nonetheless. Once you’re fully naked, she herself strips off and lies on top of you; allowing prolonged skin-on-skin contact, which makes you both tingle all over. This is when you start letting your hands wander all over her body. This is when you send shivers down her spine, because your hands are cold, and her body is hot. This is when you push your pelvis into her as you hook a leg over hers, as you drag your hand through her red-hair, as you bite her lower lip, as you grab a fistful of hair and tug. This is when she lets out a moan, that has an air of pain to it; but the good kind. This is when your hand moves lower and nestles on her hip, pushing her into you, as you thrust your pelvis into her again, letting her know that despite being on the bottom, you are very much in charge as of right now, but that you are ready for her to take over and dominate you.   
She gets the message, and unleashes a flurry of hot, impassioned kisses all over your face and your neck, covering every inch of your body with a mixture of kisses, and slow licks, and teasing, tantalising breaths from her nose and mouth. Without much ado, two of her fingers are inside you, and you let out a surprised moan; now she has you, exactly where she wants you, and in the here and now, you are under her spell, under her control and weak to her every move.  
You moan softly as she moves her fingers inside of you, she doesn’t let up and very quickly your back is arching, reaching the ultimate point of climax. You hold your breath, and then let out a squeak, before biting your lip as your legs begin to shake. Your moans increase in both frequency and pitch and Erin smirks – she knows you’re about to cum. Sure enough, with a couple more thrusts from her fingers, cum is rushing forth and you moan incredibly loudly as it vacates your body.  
You lie there, breathing heavily, before she speaks. “You alright there, sweetcheeks?”  
“Uh-huh.” You gasp.  
She smirks at you before commenting on the consistency of your vaginal secretions. “Ooh, we got the white stuff immediately this time.”  
You give a half-chuckle; exhausted from shaking and holding your breath. “Well, it is you. 9 times out of 10 you get white.”  
“Well, that’s true. Okay, I’m done.”  
“Done?”  
“My wrist’s dead. Gimme a minute.”  
“Oh, okay.” You sit up and launch yourself on top of her. Sticky, sweaty skin sticking to hers. She tries to grumble, but you stop her by kissing her hard on the lips. You make out with her, and she flops back into the settee. “Good job it’s my turn then, innit?”   
She nods, but says nothing; words failing her.  
You kiss her again, before getting comfortable on top of her. You’re now sitting across her pelvis, with your knees either side of her. Here she has a perfect view of your breasts. She smirks again and you run your hands seductively up your sides, cupping your breasts, and pushing them out, to make them more voluptuous, before running your hands up and into your messy-but-still-wavy golden locks. You grab a handful, bite your lower lip, and drop your head a little, before tilting it; a mixture of cute and sexy. It’s enough to get her to bite her lip and grab you so you’re lying on top of her again. She whispers sweet-nothings in your ear and you begin to lick her in various places; but avoiding the sensitive areas, so that she has to beg for you to please her.


	61. Chapter 59

You stop dead. A rather unpleasant smells is emanating from somewhere in the lab and you’ve only just noticed it. However, you know this acrid odour is from neither you, nor Erin, and you sit up rather abruptly.

“Honey, what is it?” Erin asks, perplexed.

“Can you smell that?”

Erin sniffs. “Nope.”

“No, properly inhale, like this.” You breathe in deeply and she follows suit.

“What is…is that…burning?”

“I…hang on...” you peel yourself off her and throw on your clothes. The motion-sensor by the door notices your movements, and the harsh halogen ceiling lights blink on. You scour high and low for the source of the smell. And then you locate it. “Oh, fuck.” You say, deadpan.

A black primordial ooze has manifested itself over a third of your lab. The metal table, which once stood proudly in the centre of one section of the lab lays twisted, corroded and at a jaunty angle. You cannot believe your stupidity, your lack of smell or the fact that you hadn’t noticed it, until it was _really_ too late. You stare at it for a few moments, then hear a hiss and a creak as another piece of furniture dissolves under the acid. A silent hand finds its way to your mouth, and you freeze in your spot. As you stand there, trying to comprehend it, the floor begins to vibrate and there is a _rumble_ as the ceiling gives way. It thunders down into the lab below.

You hear a scream from Abby and lean over the hole to find a furious bespectacled face glowering up at you. Two more faces appear in the hole. You wave and emit a small “Hi.”

“Dare I ask?” begins Patty.

“There is…”

“I don’t think I wanna know.” Interrupts Abby.

“But, I, er…”

“What in the sweet hell have you done now, Holtzy?” Patty enquires, a little too calmly.

“Black Slime.” You begin. Three puzzled faces from below stare up at you as Erin, half-dressed appears at your side. Seeing Craig, she flushes red and dashes off to cover herself. “I was doing some research on Black Slime, and it, well, sort of, um, got loose and, er, well, it, um, seems to have eaten everything.”

“You mean the research we _all_ did _months_ ago?” Abby asks, anger lacing her voice.

“Well, uh… yah.” You reply, rubbing the back of your neck.

“Well, we’re gonna need a new lab.” Patty begins.

“No, nuh-uh. Holtzmann.”

“Yah?”

“You’re paying for the damage!” Abby snaps.

“Fuck. Okay. Uh, let me check my bank balance.” You fish your phone out of your leather pocket and find the mobile banking app. You wince and sigh. “Uh, Abby?”

“What?” she replies, tersely.

“Abby, I’ll make some adjustments.”

“This isn’t an experiment, Holtzmann. _What_ do you mean?”

“Uh, well… I can’t pay… not at the moment.”

“HOW!” Abby suddenly yells.

“That last shipment from X Industries _maaay_ have tipped me over the edge?”

“What shipment?” Erin and Abby ask together.

“Uhhhh… Let’s just say I’m about $400 in debt.”

“Baaabe!” Erin shrieks. You narrow your eyes in pain.

“How much will it cost to fix the hole?” you ask Abby.

“I don’t know, you’ll have to ring and find out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To Be Continued...


End file.
